Dare Disturb the Universe
by Shamera
Summary: Wishes are powerful things, especially from the minds of those who are powerful enough to take down gods and change the future. When multiple wishes converge, Hope Estheim wakes up after the fall of Cocoon with memories of a future that didn't happen and a changed timeline. [nanowrimo2014]
1. Days1-3

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

-T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

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He doesn't remember waking.

What he remembers is the excited clamoring, words blurring together in his brain as he tried to escape the din that rattled within his skull. There was a pressure on his hand, and it took a monumental effort to so much as shift his face away from the noise — a movement which only set off another wave of dulled pain through his head. By contrast, the warm darkness was inviting when paired against the brightness and noise and pain.

The second time he wakes, he hears the platter of rain against a window, and thinks that raindrops should be against his skin right now, except he was warm and dry and cocooned within numbness, the pain now a comfortable distance away even as every thought was fuzzy and distant along with it. He tries to open his eyes that time, and the pressure against his hand increases sporadically, tightening and loosening and then repeating the process. The noises are gone now, but there is still a soothing voice near his ear, forming something like words.

The effort is too much, and he gratefully withdraws into darkness once again.

The third time there is the actually sensation of waking, of just starting to wake up but not being fully there yet, of drifting alongside dreams and combating the break of dawn. He hears hushed words this time.

"—need to stretch your legs sometime. We're all here to take over."

"...can't. He… he almost opened his eyes yesterday—"

The pressure on his hand tightened in accordance to the second voice's pitch, and despite straining to hear more, he found himself nestled back in the darkness once again.

The next time, he thinks, feels like the middle of night. The brightness isn't as harsh, and it feels more inviting somehow. The now-familiar pressure against his hand is gone, but there is a warmth on his face, a gentle touch on his forehead as fingers comb through his hair.

It's nice, he thinks drowsily to himself. There's the vague memory from his childhood, of being ill and his mother sitting at the edge of his bed, fingers carding through his hair as she hummed a gentle song to send him to sleep.

That memory brings along a pang of sadness, of grief, and he wonders why.

Another time, and there are no soft touches, no pressure on his hands. There is a strong voice speaking — reading, he realizes after a while. The voice is familiar, and he strains to hear the words once more. He tries to turn his head toward the sound, but feels bone weary. There is something fundamentally exhausting just about being conscious. Had it always been so difficult?

The voice halted with his stilted movements, and he stopped as well. Several long moments later, the voice began reading again, this time the tone not as strong, but clearly distracted. It was, however, not enough for him to notice as he tried once again to satisfy his curiosity as to who would possibly be reading to him.

It took a long time (ages, in his mind) to tilt his head just enough to face the source of sounds (as he could yet to expend the effort in trying to make sense of the words), and cracking his eyes open just slightest bit — enough to take in the dim lighting in the room (bright to his eyes) and the blurred shapes and colors that came with it. Luckily, there wasn't much to assault his sight, as the majority of his vision was white, and the figure…

"Dad?" He tried to mouth, but the sound came out more as a soft inhale as his tongue refused to work properly. He frowned, taking stock of himself… or at least the fact that he couldn't seem to speak properly. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did, seeing as all movement was hard enough, but somehow a failed attempt at speech was more presently concerning than anything else.

The figure moved, and his vision blurred trying to keep up. More words were spoken, this time quicker and more urgently than before, much to his consternation. It was hard enough to make out the voice, but individual words were hard, much harder when people spoke so quickly.

At least… he was fairly sure that was his dad talking. It sounded like him, and the blob shape looked vaguely like him as well. But there was something he was missing, and the familiarity wasn't enough to stop the nagging which only served to distract him even more from his surroundings.

Oh, well, he thought, exhaustion finally overtaking him. He let his eyes fall shut again, breathing deepening into sleep. If his dad was there, everything would be fine.

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The first time his thoughts were in any semblance of cohesiveness, he opened his eyes slowly to stare up at the white, white ceiling of what looked to be a hospital room. It was easier than it had been the last time… he didn't know how long ago or what happened, but there was a sense of relief that he could at least do that much without having to struggle as he had the last time.

His thoughts were still slow and muddy, and he couldn't for the life of him figured out what he was doing in a hospital room. Sleeping? Did he fall asleep here after—?

"You're awake!" The voice was high pitched and feminine, excited and shocked all at once, and he struggled to place it even as the pressure on his hand increased, and then curled strands of hair fell into his vision, along with a face that looked so familiar even as he tried to place the bright green eyes. "You're… you're awake this time, right? The doctors said that you might be unresponsive, but they also said you probably weren't going to get better and I know they're _lying_ because of course you're going to get better."

The babbling was unfamiliar, but the face was slowly starting to clear up for him. It was easier if he didn't try to concentrate on her words, because he needed all his concentration to make out who she was. Someone familiar. Someone he should really know.

The words stopped as she realized that he was staring at her, at her instead of the ceiling. Her expression twisted to one of apprehension. She said a word that he recognized, that he _knew_.

He tried to move his jaw, to twist his tongue. Everything felt still and sore, and yet thick and numb at the same time. It made even the tiniest of movements too hard.

That was right. Whoever she was, she called him by name. She knew who he was.

The pressure on his hand squeezed once again and he darted his eyes down tiredly to find that the girl had wrapped both her hands around his, and that must have been the pressure he was feeling. How long had she been there, holding his hand? Her eyes were familiar, her hair was familiar, her features were familiar… but who she was slipped from his grasp like water through a sieve. His brow furrowed in unhappiness. Why couldn't he figure it out? It must be important.

His head was pounding, he realized.

He thought about going back to sleep again. He could just close his eyes right there and then maybe her worried face would melt away in the darkness. It was far less complicated than trying to move, than trying to focus his eyes and to make out why she was so familiar.

But that didn't seem very fair of him when she was obviously waiting for a response.

Just a little bit more, he decided with his muddy thoughts.

There was a soft jingle of her bracelets, the metal warm where it pressed against his wrist. They were colorful, and the burst of color sparked a moment of recognition.

Fire. Grief. Crystal. The smells of Gran Pulse, and the warmth in his chest recalling a sound he had nigh forgotten.

He rolled his tongue within his mouth, and gave the resulting word a try: "...Vanille."

Better than before, again, although his voice was hoarse and painful and barely a whisper. His throat felt terrible. It was enough, though, and the girl — Vanille — brightened up considerably, her green eyes even brighter than before as she bit down on her lower lip hard enough he worried briefly that she was going to hurt herself. He didn't want to see her hurt. She was important, even if he wasn't entirely clear why as of yet. It was good enough that he remembered that single word in conjunction with her.

"You recognize me." Her voice was much like his at that moment, barely above a whisper and so thick he could barely make out the words after moments of concentration. She dipped her head down, hiding her bright eyes and pressing his hand, still wrapped within hers, against her face. He was alarmed to feel moisture against his skin. "I'm glad… I'm so glad…"

It was too much to take in, and he barely managed to flex his fingers within her grasp, trying to provide some sort of comfort for the weeping girl. It wasn't much, but… that was enough, right?

He closed his eyes after another moment, proud that he managed that much. Maybe he would remember more the next time he woke up.

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The next time he opens his eyes, there's a man standing in the corner of the room right by the window, speaking quietly on the phone and looking unhappy about it. Try as he might, he couldn't make out any of the words, not just because it was being said so fast, but because it seemed so quiet he could hear nothing more than the constant stream of sounds, none of which made any sense to him.

He feels less tired this time, like he might actually be able to stay aware for more than a minute at a time. Similarly, his brain was less fogged. It was easier to log that there was sunlight streaming from the window in the corner, that there was an annoying persistent noise from the machinery around him, and even that the man was starting to notice he was awake and aware.

He turned his attention toward the window. Sunlight, sky, and what could be distant buildings. That was good. He could tell what all of those were. Sunlight meant it was daytime. He was in a hospital.

Then… was he here because he was sick? He didn't feel sick. Groggy, yes, and somewhat irritated by the amount of time it took for him to register things in his head… he felt like it shouldn't take that long. But he didn't think that he had just fallen asleep here. Something must have happened before that to leave him in a hospital.

"Hey." the man said, voice directed at him this time. He slid his eyes over curiously. "You here with me, buddy? You gotta give me a sign if you can hear me, kiddo. Vanille said you recognized her, but… I can't tell if you're awake or just staring again."

Again? He tried to make out what was wrong with that statement, but gave up shortly after. It was too tiring.

Instead, he used the effort to frown at the man.

Surprisingly, that seemed to cheer the other up quite a bit. It made him pull up a hospital chair and sit down heavily, the furniture groaning under his weight even as an arm reached out to ruffle his hair gently. "I never thought I'd be this relieved to see that grumpy face again. You had all of us real scared for a while there, kid. We thought — just, no more close calls, okay? You just worry about getting better."

Getting better from what? There were too many words and too many questions for him to follow, and the confusion brought about another round of frustration. He didn't like being confused, didn't know not knowing things. The man didn't seem to sense his growing irritation.

"Lightning will be here soon enough." He continued. "She'll be happy to see you awake, I'm sure."

That didn't make any sense. He closed his eyes again in order to concentrate solely on the words rather than by distracted by the visual stimuli. At least, that's what he hoped he was doing, because the darkness just made him more drowsy, and his brain didn't feel any clearer. He recognized Vanille's name, and Lightning sounded familiar… There was a certain relief when a few more things became clear.

"Whoa, c'mon kiddo, wakey-wakey. Sis'll kill me if I'm the only one who got your time today. Everyone's been waiting to say hi, you know. And you've got to wake up more to keep getting better. Or something."

The blathering made him exhale in aggravation. He frowned again and tested another word, determined to do better this time. "Idiot."

The surprised and relieved burst of laughter startled him to full awareness once again.

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It was hard to make connections sometimes. More than sometimes. It was difficult to identify anything when awake, and it seemed like there was always someone there with words and more words that confused him. The more he tried to make things out, the more disappointed people seemed to be. He hadn't noticed it at first, too busy with trying to make out sounds and blurry images, but eventually the twisted expressions made him feel… bad, at the very least. Like he was doing something wrong.

"You were in an accident. Do you remember your name?" Someone asked him once, and it was better because this person spoke slowly, calmly, and held no tingling of familiarity. There was no push in his brain trying to identify the person, although the way they were dressed seemed vaguely recognizable.

The question took him some time to answer, because while he was sure that he _knew_, at the same time it felt a little out of his reach. Like something on the tip of his tongue, there one moment and gone the next when he needed it.

The unfamiliar figure was patient, though, which he appreciated as he slowly nodded his head.

"What's your name?" The figure in white asked, just as slowly and carefully.

He thought for a while. Closed his eyes.

"Hope." He finally whispered, elated upon the memory of the word.

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"And the last thing you remember?"

Hope looked away from Dr. Cline and toward his father, who was sitting next to him on the plastic chair near his bed. It couldn't be very comfortable, he had seen Snow squirming around in that thing, complaining about the lack of cushions.

Bartholomew Estheim gave him an encouraging nod.

Hope looked back toward his doctor, still tired just from moving his neck. He concentrated hard to form the words in his mouth, as his tongue was still have trouble obeying his commands. "I… dunno."

"It should come back to you in time." Dr. Cline reassured him, swiping down notes on his medical tablet. "You're doing very well. It may be a bit early for me to say this, but… it seems as if your surgery was a complete success. You're a very lucky young man."

Hope gave a strained smile. The others had explained to him, slowly, and multiple times since he tended to fall asleep on them mid-story, about what happened. There had been an earthquake, the first one that the former residents of Cocoon had ever experienced, which taught them a little bit more about the land of Gran Pulse: mostly, that there were many areas which could not support heavy structures, and that the land itself was not always stable.

He and a great deal of other people had been in the accident, Hope was told. He had fallen from a great height, but Vanille managed to catch him with her rod before he hit the ground, although he stuck his head several times along the way down. It was the reason why she panicked, why she wouldn't leave him alone unless pestered, as his recent coma had been a direct result of those head injuries. Apparently her rod had also caused several more injuries, but those were all easily healed over with the help of manadrives.

She had saved his life then.

It had been the brain injuries that required more delicate care, the doctor sprouting off several long words that Hope couldn't yet make out. Things were slowly getting clearer, but…

"And can you feel that?" Dr. Clive was saying. Hope nodded at the touch on the bottom of his foot. "Can you move your foot for me? Good, good."

"Doctor?" Bartholomew asked anxiously after a moment of silence as Dr. Cline noted things down on his tablet.

"Hmm?" The doctor hummed, not looking up from his tablet for a moment before he startled. "Oh, I'm sorry. No, it's all good news. Considering the initial extent of his injuries, I'd say your son is amazing condition. I'd like for him to stay another two weeks, mostly for further assessment along with physical therapy. From what I can see… well, it's better than anything we would have hoped for."

"Two weeks." Bartholomew sounded disbelieving. "Surely it can't be that bad."

Dr. Cline shook his head, but looked as if he had told many patients and their families the exact same thing over the years, and already expected the reaction. "Head injuries are always a delicate matter. There may be quite a few holes in his memory, and while he is in good condition now, not many have the experience necessary to deal with the following muscular and speech therapy. He has a very limited range of motion at the moment, and it's important to understand that this may come from the brain needing to heal and relearn motion rather than the body."

"I…" His father seemed overwhelmed. "Yes, that would be a lot to deal with."

"Family members are encouraged to participate as well." Dr. Cline assured him. "Twenty years ago, this wouldn't have been allowed as patients could be distracted by other people there, but encouragement is a greater motivation than deterrent. I know you and the rest of your family have not left his side, so…"

"Ah." Bartholomew breathed out. "They're… yes, I suppose so."

Hope closed his eyes then, satisfied with having stayed awake so long.

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"Bored, are we?"

Hope set down the puzzle as Dr. Cline entered the room, pushing himself further up in his bed. It had only been three days, but a productive three days nevertheless. While his physical rehabilitation was a little slow, his speech therapy had progressed in leaps and bounds. His dexterity had improved, and thus, Hope had also managed to stay awake for hours at a time, leaving him with very little to do when he refused visitors.

He wanted some time to himself to work on remembering them rather than face their disappointed faces. It seemed as if the others didn't quite understand, but they left nevertheless when Hope started raising his voice and slurring his words in distress.

He nodded his head in answer to the question, and held out the completed puzzle.

"Remarkable." Dr. Cline murmured as he accepted the completed item. "Simply remarkable. I'd say you'd be ready to head home in half the time I projected. How are you doing today, Hope? And say it in words."

Hope frowned. He was still feeling terribly self-conscious about his faltering words.

"I," he hesitated for just a moment, forcing his lips to enunciate better. "Feel fine, doctor."

"Good, good." The doctor bustled about the room, making notes the entire time. "Ms. Farron was asking for you earlier, if you feel up to taking visitors. She said she'd come back in another hour or so if you're amendable and the two of you could have dinner together."

Hope shrugged. He liked whenever Light was around, although he couldn't understand why yet. She was a calming presence, and tended to turn a blind eye whenever Hope was having trouble expressing his words or even swallowing his food, unlike the others who immediately jumped to help him. It let him feel calmer about his mistakes, like he wasn't something that needed help with every little task. Because of that, it had only been her and his father visiting him the past day since Hope tended to make a fuss when the others stayed for too long.

"I'll tell her that's a yes, then." The doctor hummed in thought. "And bring you more things, shall I? Perhaps a few books this time?"

Hope nodded, and then added quietly, "Please."

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Within another two days, Hope was growing more than a little restless.

There was just nothing to _do_ in the night hours. While there was someone who used to stay with him through the night, Hope had long since told the others to go home and sleep as well after seeing the dark circles under Vanille's eyes. Nothing was going to happen to him during the night, after all. It wasn't as if he was going to slip into a coma again, not when he was this awake and aware.

He set down the old fashioned paper-bound book he had been given for a moment, already bored with the tripe storyline written within, and listened to the beeping of the hospital at night. The lights were dimmed for the night so that those asleep would not be disturbed, but Hope's room was empty of anyone but himself.

He wondered why. Listening to the gossip of nurses during the day revealed the hospital to be overfull, and yet there was an empty bed next to his.

He wanted to… to _do_ something. It felt strange to not have anything important to do. It felt like a ticking clock in the back of his mind, urging him to be productive before time ran out, and the feeling made him antsy. The hour on the clock read far too early in the morning (or perhaps late at night) for anyone to rightfully be awake, but…

He pushed off the covers and slipped his legs over the side of the bed, brushing against the pushed down handles. He was still tired from the earlier exercises, but his body was recovering faster than his mind. It was never his muscles that gave out first, but rather mental exhaustion trying to consciously control his movements.

With a breath to prepare himself, Hope slipped from the bed and settled onto the floor, noting the cold linoleum underneath his feet. Steady. He was steady at the moment. He wondered if he could make it to the rec room before anyone caught him, and whether it would be alright for him to stay in that room a few hours. Maybe he'd be able to find something there to do, rather than read the flimsy books that had been brought to him. Maybe he could do something else. Study. So much time spent in the hospital meant that he must have missed a lot, right?

He made it to the door and peeked out into the hallway cautiously. Coast clear. Hope slipped into the hall, sidestepping various obstacles to make his way down to the rec room, luckily still on the same floor. There was a night shift nurse behind the counter in a lit part of the hall next to the elevators, but she merely gave him a frown as he slipped past her, turning away to ignore his presence.

The small recreational room was brightly lit still, colorful and empty except for a young child sitting by himself in a corner, bandages wrapped tightly around a bald head and his left arm in a cast. Hope stared for a moment, but then went back to scanning the rest of the room when it seemed the child was ignoring him as well. There were several small shelves of books along one brightly painted wall, and crates of toys and puzzles shoved against another corner by the tightly drawn curtains.

Childish, Hope thought, and wondered why that didn't feel right. Why he hadn't noticed it before. But then again, Dr. Cline mentioned before that he would notice more and more of his surroundings as time went on. Perhaps he just skipped the information before this.

He wandered to one of the shelves and sat down on the floor cross-legged, entirely ignoring the bench and seats next to him. None of the books looked interesting, all childish scrawls and simple plots. He scanned over the titles with a finger, pausing slightly at a science encyclopedia and then bypassing it entirely. Boring. He needed something to _do_.

Another few moments of restlessness and Hope shuffled himself toward the standing chalkboard to the left, brushing off the previous stick figures and misspelt words until the board was entirely empty. He picked up a broken piece of chalk, and then hovered his hand slightly over the board.

Something to do.

He drew a circle. Gave it a rotational and gravitational axis to turn into a more three dimensional model. Maybe a scale just to see how large it was… like a planet. Like Cocoon. Probably not as large, though, although he wasn't sure why he was drawing a planet. Mass had weight, after all, and weight was something that needed to be carefully calculated, otherwise the entire planet might collapse into itself.

But, and here his brow furrowed as he used the empty space on the chalkboard to figure out the equations necessary to calculate the weight of a planet, it wouldn't just the weight by itself, but the weight of people as well. People, belongings, animals, structures, and entire biospheres. Drawing a planet was harder than he had initially thought. He was barely scratching the surface and already running out of space on the chalkboard, even if the sphere itself took up barely a fraction of the space.

"What are you doing?"

Hope startled and dropped his chalk as the young boy who had previously been seated in the corner plopped himself down next to him. The child couldn't have been older than ten old, and was sickly pale, his right hand used to stable himself on the ground as he leaned back.

"I'm…" Hope blinked. What _had_ he been doing? "I'm making a world."

"Oh." The child responded. "Like Cocoon? That looks like math, though. With letters. And squiggly lines. Yeesh, it looks like something my sister does for her homework, except way longer. What's it supposed to be?"

Hope glanced back to the sprawling equations across the chalkboard. He… "It's just simple physics. I'm trying to solve the density for the amount of mass needed to form a shell like Cocoon's."

"Liar." The child accused. "C'mon, tell the truth. Is it your math homework, or did you make it up?"

It was nothing more than a brain exercise. A warm-up. A way of letting out the frustration he felt from being confined and told to rest all the time. It was something that felt familiar in an unfamiliar place and situations.

The silence must have been the answer the child needed, as he only nodded and then challenged, "If you can do math like that, why don't you help me solve this puzzle? I'm not going to bed until it's done, and Nurse Buzzkill outside's been trying to hound me to go back for _hours_."

"Wha—?"

"Here." There was a cube dumped onto his lap by the child. "You're supposed to get all the same colors onto the same sides, but I can only finish one side. See? It's like… three by three on each side, and apparently it's all math or something like that. So how do you finish _that_, Mr. Math Genius?"

Math genius, he wasn't a math genius. Something about the entire conversation just wasn't adding up. It made the back of his head ache. Everything was wrong. The brightly colored room, the children's books…

"If you can't solve it, you're lying about the planet drawing." The child accused gleefully.

Hope frowned. "I'm not —"

"_What is going on here?_"

"Geez, chill." The child responded to the nurse's dismayed tone, even as Hope flinched back. "We're just talking. No one's dying, the world's not ending, no need to shout."

"You were supposed to the in bed hours ago." The nurse told the child sternly, and then turned her attention on Hope. "And _you_. What are you doing here?"

"Obviously," the child answered before Hope could so much as think of a reply. "Because he'd a kid and something bad happened so he ended up in a hospital. Duh. Why else would he be wearing a hospital gown and in pediatrics?"

A kid? No, no, that wasn't right. There was that accident, yes, but he wasn't a kid.

The nurse looked furious. "I want both of you back in your rooms! It's past lights out and you're disturbing the rest of the ward. Especially you, _l'Cie_, you're not to go near any of the children here, do you hear me?"

Hope didn't wait for further reprimand, instead stumbling to his feet as quickly as he could and racing past the nurse and down the hallway back to the safety of his room.

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"I think it's a cause for celebration." Vanille told him cheerily, patting his hand. They were seated next to each other on the narrow hospital bed, the both of them shoved up against the headrest and vying for space. "They're letting you out a week earlier than you thought! No more bad hospital food, no more boring hospital room, no more getting kicked out by doctors…"

"That's just you." Hope told her, and smiled as she giggled in agreement. His smile faltered, however, as he remembered the events of the night previous. It was most likely the cause of his early release from the hospital, rather than how well he was doing. Immediately following his physical therapy today, Dr. Cline had appeared in his room to tell him with a terse smile that due to his progress, he was free to go when his family could pick him up.

He even said that Hope didn't have to come in for the second part of his physical therapy.

The nurse last night called him a l'Cie, and yet for the life of him, Hope couldn't understand why. He knew the term. Knew the concept. But he wasn't one! Had he been? Maybe. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed plausible. But he knew with certainty that he wasn't one now, and was surprised by the vehemence of the word.

"Wish I could remember more." Hope murmured, and Vanille turned to him with wide eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure it'll all come back eventually!" She said, and nudged him with her shoulder. "So cheer up! You can come visit us now, right? Oh, you should see the little place Fang and I picked out. It's only a bit away from New Bodhum, just close enough that we can visit at any time. You could stay with us, you know… if your dad's decided on where to move yet."

Hope shrugged. Apparently their home had been destroyed in the same earthquake that landed him in the hospital, which meant that all the survivors were evacuating to new homes. His dad hadn't said anything about it, presumably for the same reason Lightning kept telling it was alright if he didn't remember and to take it easy.

"I haven't seen him yet today." Hope said, fingers picking at the edge of the hospital blanket. He didn't like how cold his hands always got. Gloves. He needed to get gloves. "Dr. Cline might have called him. I don't know."

He hesitated. Somehow, it didn't feel like a good idea to ask, but he had to know. "Vanille… were we… were we — l'Cie?" The word somehow felt filthy in his mouth, just as the sound of it felt like _monster_ from the nurse last night.

Vanille, however, didn't seem to hear the negative undertones.

"Yeah." She confirmed, shoulder still pressed against his. "Not long ago, I guess. But not any more. Did you not remember?"

The way she said it didn't sound too bad. Her tone wasn't fearful or hesitant.

"I'm starting to." He admitted.

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Hope glared at the offending contraption. "I don't need a wheelchair."

"Good." Lightning informed him. "Because you're out of it the moment we get out."

But in the meanwhile, it meant that he was stuck being wheeled from his room to the awaiting car. Possibly in full view of the very same nurse he was hoping to avoid. If he were allowed to walk, then Hope could twist his way to hide around Lightning when they walked down the hall, but this meant that he would be out in plain sight.

Still, Lightning's tone brook no argument, and Hope gave an exaggerated sigh (along with a full grimace) as he sat heavily in the contraption. At least it meant he was getting out of the hospital. His father hadn't been able to get there in time on the short notice, so it was Vanille who stayed with him and Lightning who was going to take him home.

Home, he thought, might be just as strange as here. He didn't know where it was, or what to expect. Despite the earthquake having happened near three weeks ago, Bartholomew hadn't exactly explained where they would be relocated. And now that he thought about it, Hope wasn't sure where he was in the first place. Which hospital was this? He had never thought to ask.

Thanks to an earlier conversation with Vanille, Hope was slowly starting to piece together more than just recognition of his surroundings. His memory was still fuzzy, but he sort of remembered the Purge and what came after. He remembered their journey and the Fall, and then… and then, it was all blank.

"Don't worry about it," Vanille had told him in response to that admission, although there was a worried look in her eyes. "You remember us. That's good enough for me."

But it wasn't good enough for _him_. There was something he was missing, he just knew it, but couldn't figure out what. The gap in his memory didn't feel like a small thing, but a colossal mountain he had to climb. Or perhaps a better descriptor would be more like a dark pit and the fear that came with preparing himself to dive right in.

"I hate this thing." Hope declared sullenly, shifting in his seat even as he slouched down with embarrassment as Lightning pushed him out of the room. Vanille was humming happily behind them, carrying the bag of items Hope managed to accumulate in his room the past week. A few books, a joke stuffed animal plush from Snow, an actual thoughtful plush from Serah, and a handful of books and puzzles he managed to beg off his father.

"Then make sure you don't end up in one again." Lightning told him in response, which only made Hope slouch more in embarrassment — he hadn't meant to act so childish in front of her. It was just that… well, maybe the hospital really was getting to him.

Luckily, the nurse in question didn't seem to be on shift at that moment, and many of the other hospital staff steered clear of them. Hope wondered how many of those people didn't approve of the fact that he was there, and then tried to reconcile that statistic with Dr. Cline's daily words of encouragement.

There was a hovercar waiting for them at the front of the hospital, and Snow waved enthusiastically from the driver's seat, nearly up ending the drink tray he had strapped to the window.

"Oh, no." Hope groaned. "We're all going to die."

Lightning only snorted in amusement (possibly agreement as well) before wheeling him in that direction even as Vanille ran past them cheerfully to greet Snow.

"Hey, kid!" Snow called out to him when the two of them were close enough. "Sure you got everything? Arms, legs, brain cells?"

Lightning reached through the open window to whap him over the back of the head, making him yelp loudly in protest. Hope took that opportunity to scramble out of the wheelchair and through the open car door that Vanille was very generously holding open for him despite not needing to, still smiling and most ignoring Snow and Lightning's antics.

"We'll be fine." Vanille said as she got settled in the seat next to him. She nudged his side with her elbow and winked. "Can't be as bad as when you were driving."

Hope flushed as the vague memory of crashing in the Pulse Vestige returned, and he sputtered in response.

"Move." Lightning told Snow in the front, arms crossed as she waited outside the driver door. The blond made a whining noise in protest but eventually shuffled to the passenger side with a pout, sighing dramatically as Light slid into the driver's seat.

Snow twisted to face the two teenagers in the back seats. "See? I can drive here, but I'm not allowed to drive when there's precious cargo on board. I'm calling favoritism on Sis right now. She likes you way better than she likes me."

"Obviously." Lightning agreed pleasantly, and then frowned. "Snow. Stay in your seat. You'll tip the entire car over if you move around."

"And now she's calling me fat." Snow lamented dramatically, attempting to look more upset than he actually was. Vanille giggled at their antics, buckling in both herself and Hope as well, much to Hope's indignance. "See what I have to deal with?"

Lightning didn't wait much after Hope and Vanille were buckled in, and the hovercar shot forward, Snow yelping once again as he clung onto his seat.

"Your dad will join us later." Lightning informed Hope, her eyes never leaving the road. "He's —"

"Busy at work, yeah." Hope was used to it. That was the norm before the Purge, and he hadn't expected it to change all that much afterward. It was enough that Bartholomew was trying to make time now, and that Hope had a better understanding as to why his father worked so much. He kicked the back of his heels against the bottom of his seat in thought. "I get it."

"Hope." And here Lightning sounded softer, prompting him to look up and catch her expression on the rearview mirror. "He'll be here."

He stared at her reflection, and for a moment everything — just _everything_ — felt too surreal. Like a dream. Sitting in the car at that moment seated next to Vanille, watching Lightning drive as Snow fiddled with the radio… he didn't know why, but in that moment it was as if everything turned grey for the briefest second, as if time slowed to a point where even the scenery outside the hovercar was slowed to a crawl.

_I shouldn't be here._

And just as quickly, the moment passed, and Hope kicked once more at the bottom of his seat. Normally, he wouldn't have banked on his dad being there, but if Lightning said so… "Okay."

But the sense of unease never left.

.

.

New Bodhum was nearly an hour away, and even the road there felt hastily made, nothing more than upturned dirt rather than pavement. It was squeezed in between the water and mountains, and the buildings there were nothing more than the foundations to what looked to be small and squat homes. Comfortable and cut from the rest of civilization. The people there probably loved it. Hope could understand feeling more secure away from large crowds of people, having also survived the Purge with other Bodhum residents.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Vanille asked as they gazed out the window onto the flickering blue ocean. She gave a happy sigh. "Home sweet home."

Hope wondered for a moment why Fang and Vanille hadn't decided to go back to Oerba, but then decided it was a dumb question. He wouldn't have gone back to Palumpolum, either. There was just something about the ghosts of his past haunting him. He didn't want to go back to that large, empty house now that his mom was gone. Fang and Vanille probably didn't want to stay in a town that was empty of the people they used to know, either.

"Just wait," Snow told them. "Lebreau's probably cooked up a storm. Serah mentioned wanting to put together a welcome back party and has the others up in a riot. Well. A good one."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to." Lightning interjected. "Serah understands."

"There's nothing wrong with a little party." Snow objected, feigning offense. "We're all just glad Hope's alive and hasn't suffered brain dam—"

"I'm sure it's all going to be delicious." Vanille spoke up as Lightning's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. She threw her arms around Hope, who leaned back from the unexpected weight and cheer. "We'll just have to make sure to eat a little bit of everything, right Hope?"

"Sure." Hope agreed, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He glanced at Lightning's tense figure as Vanille's hair tickled his face, and wondered what felt so strange. She seemed more irritable than he remembered, or just… he didn't know. His head was starting to hurt again, although it was a dull ache. His memory was improving in leaps and bounds the past several days, but every time he mentioned that to her, she seemed to be torn between relief and… tension.

There was something else going on. He knew it.

"Hey, Vanille." He asked quietly under the warbling music that Snow insisted on tuning into on the radio, turning his head to face the redhead. "I — I keep meaning to ask." He swallowed. How to phrase it in order to not sound offensive? He didn't know. "How are you here?"

"What do you mean?" She asked back, leaning her head against his in a manner that had her hair tickling the side of his face. It was just another thing that Hope couldn't reconcile — they were close, had always been, but had she been this close before? With the way she tended to stay close to him, Hope wondered if somehow he was to fade away if she didn't keep a close enough eye on him. Maybe it was just the accident. Vanille had felt the guiltiest out of everyone, after all. It would stand to reason that she needed more reassurance he was actually alright.

Hope opened his mouth to clarify, but then considered it a moment further. "During… during the Fall, weren't…?" He bit his bottom lip, and then shook his head. "Never mind. I must have remembered things wrong."

The faintest flicker in the back of his mind told him that Fang and Vanille were crystallized, and that Lightning shouldn't be here either.

_That's right,_ a voice whispered in his head, _and then Snow left and Sazh disappeared and Serah was gone._

He felt like he was remembering more and more, and the more he remembered, the less things made sense.

Or maybe he had been dreaming. Maybe he was remembering a dream, albeit a very long one.

Instead, he smiled in Vanille's direction to appease her worried eyes and asked, "Think there'll be cake?"

.

.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Okay, so this is a NaNoWriMo prompt from **Animus** **Lost**, which I debated how to actually post because it's just easier to post things on AO3 lately, but the prompt came through here and I figured I'd honour that! ^^ Just as a note: because this is for NaNo, none of this has been looked at a second time. I'm going to be struggling just to hit wordcount, and possibly be writing things other than this story at the same time this month.


	2. Days4-6

Days 4-6

.

.

In the end, Lightning had been right and Hope escaped from the merriment not thirty minutes in, exhausted. Just trying to smile and talk to people was far more strenuous than the physical therapy he had undergone the past few days, and his brain felt like it would soon melt and then slip from his skull. Lebreau really had cooked up a veritable feast, and while Hope made his way attempting to sample everything out of courtesy, his stomach just couldn't handle all of that.

It all felt like a blur of faces and voices soon enough, almost as it had nearly a week ago. He felt bad that he still couldn't recall the Team NORA members, especially since they seemed so nice. Too much information and too much confusion prompted him to slip away from the establishment and out onto the beach where he made his way over to the pier, where he sat down on the uneven wood and watched the sunlight reflecting off waves rolling toward shore.

There, all he could hear were the sounds of water and distant birds. It was as if he left the hectic world behind, even if it was only a few dozen meters away.

There was too much he didn't understand, that he didn't yet have the brainpower to comprehend. As much as he wanted to smile and assure others that he was recovering just fine, he didn't feel fine. Too many holes in his memory. Too many gaps in his thought process.

He wasn't surprised to hear the footsteps approach.

"Had a feeling you'd be out here."

Hope tilted his head to greet Sazh, who made a groaning sound as he sat down as well on the edge of the pier.

"Here," the older man offered, fitting a hat over Hope's hair and pulling it down enough that Hope made a noise in protest and had to reach up to readjust it. "Compliments of our very old soldier-girl. Gunna have to get used to her mother-henning for a while, odd as it might seem. Can't say I blame her, though."

Hope didn't know what to say in response, and continued to stare down at the water.

Luckily, Sazh didn't take that as dismissal. The older man fell silent as well, watching the waves lap against the wooden pier. They sat there for several minutes until the heat of the sun started to prickle at Hope's skin, irritating and itching rather than warming.

"How are you feeling, Hope?" Sazh's voice was gentle as Hope started to squirm under the light. He stopped at the question, thinking about it. Sazh's presence felt more comforting here, warm and adult and it didn't feel like Hope needed to smile in reassurance or pretend that everything was better than projected.

Hope looked back down at the water and dug his fingers into the crevices of the worn wood in thought, feeling the rough texture under his skin and the coarse grains of sand left behind by those who stepped there from the sandy beach. He took a deep breath of the ocean air, the salt and wind and ocean smells more potent here than it had been in Palumpolum or even back in Bodhum. Cocoon just didn't have the same feel that Gran Pulse did; didn't have the same smells. Everything was wilder and brighter here, even the tamed sandy beaches of New Bodhum.

"Tired." He admitted, word slurred from his lack of energy put into the enunciation. No matter what the others might think, he still had a ways to go in speech therapy apparently. It took conscious effort still to speak in a manner where the others wouldn't look at him with such disappointment in their eyes. Maybe the doctors had been right. Maybe he should have stayed the whole two weeks. "...Confused. I dunno. Everything's blurry."

"Blurry?" And here Sazh sounded more alarmed, but the acknowledgement meant exhaustion was finally kicking in once more and Hope couldn't be bothered to placate him. He couldn't barely manage a nod, chin falling to almost touch his chest as he allowed himself to rest here on the pier. It was comforting.

It was a calming moment where he almost allowed himself to drift off, lulled by the sunshine and the sparkling waves and smell of the ocean air the coarse wood underneath him. He had an epiphany there while scraping his fingertips against the pier underneath him, probably getting sand stuck under his nails.

He doesn't remember the accident. Doesn't remember the earthquake everyone talked about, or the great fall he must have experienced. He can only imagine how Vanille must have felt to see him fall and to catch him in the only way she could — a catch which resulted in enough injuries for a three week hospital stay. He can see see her green, green eyes in his mind — pained and guilty and he just wants to tell her that it's not her fault because she saved his life.

That's the story he's trying to reconcile with himself.

Instead of the earthquake, Hope almost remembers the chill of rain soaking his clothes. He remembers another fall, but there was someone else there. Someone who fell with him. He doesn't remember being caught up be wires; he remembers hitting the ground. He remembers the cold.

Or at least… he thinks he recalls that.

Maybe it was all just a dream.

"Okay," Sazh finally said after assessing the situation enough to ensure Hope wasn't actually about to keel over. "How about we get you inside for a nap, then? So you won't be tired anymore."

Hope shook his head quickly. He didn't want to go back inside into the mess of confusion and cacophonous noise. He didn't have the energy to deal with the worry and disappointment and _guilt_ when people looked at him and then not be able to stop wondering why. Sure, he had been badly injured, but he was healing, right?

Wasn't he?

Hope scooted away from the edge of the pier and curled up, arms around his legs as he pressed his cheek against his knees and sighed, closing his eyes. Maybe Sazh was right. Just a little nap…

.

.

Rain.

There was the soft patter of rain all around him hitting the ground. The smell was warm, like the first rainfall on asphalt after the summer, a warmth that would soon give way to the coolness of autumn and chill winds. It was warm around him, or it should have been, except the rain was actually cold. It soaked through his clothes and coated his skin until he was shivering involuntarily in the warm air. He was on the ground somewhere, and it was dark and hard and all he knew was the rain.

Rain and pain.

There was someone calling his name, but all Hope could think of were regrets and the cold, cold rain. There was so much he had left to do. So much unfinished. So much time he just… _wasted_ when he could have been more productive.

The pain was overwhelming. His chest hurt badly. He couldn't breathe. He was —

_Dying_.

He was dying in the rain and there was someone screaming and —

"—okay! It's okay! Shh. Shh, just — it's just a bad dream. It's just a nightmare. That's right — c'mon, Hope, you just need to wake up, it's just a bad dream and you're okay, I promise you're okay—"

The screaming, he realized sharply, was him. His eyes hurt when he opened them, light assaulting his pupils and his skin felt taut and dry and painful but he could breathe again and he hadn't known air was such a blessing until now. There were hands holding him down, holding down his arms and another pressed against his forehead to control his thrashing.

His blurred vision made out Lightning holding him down, expression stern even as Serah sat next to him, her fingers softly carding through his soaked hair and murmuring reassurances to him. Saying everything was going to be okay.

It's not, Hope wanted to tell her in his fevered state. He was going to die and there was still so much work to be done.

Serah drew back sharply for a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded so so sad. "You're not going to die. You're not. It's all just a bad dream. Just a dream." Her touch was feather-light through his hair. "Just… go back to sleep, Hope. I promise. You're okay now. You're going to be just fine."

He was so very tired. It felt like he had just run an entire marathon, like he had been trying to escape Behemoths on foot and failing half the time. His entire body felt sore and bruised, and he didn't want to die but he supposed it would be okay so long as someone caught the people who shot him.

"Shot? Hope, I promise you're okay. I'm — we'll stay right here. We'll be right here. Okay?"

The grip on his arms lessoned, and against his better judgement, Hope found himself closing his eyes again, his breathing evening out as he focused on the warm hand along his scalp. He drifted back into darkness, but this one warm and comforting rather than cold and wet.

Soon enough, and it could have been minutes or hours or day, the hand stopped its movements but Hope found himself too far in to protest.

"He remembers."

"He _doesn't_." That was Lightning's voice, just as far away. He wondered why she sounded so upset. She was usually a pillar of strength, and Hope almost wished he were awake enough to comfort her. "He was never shot. One of us would have remembered."

"He might have been." Serah's voice was just as far away, just as upset. "Claire…"

"No. He doesn't need to know."

Serah's response was lost to him as Hope faded completely into sleep.

.

.

It was late at night when Bartholomew Estheim finally appeared, looking tired and frazzled from Hope's viewpoint on the couch.

"Dude, you're missing the best scene!" Maqui complained, drawing Hope's attention back to the movie in front of him. "You need to pay close attention to this part, there are some vital clues for what happens at the end."

Hope looked back to the characters on the holo-screen and then to the older blond teenager. "It was the neighbour, right?"

"What? Wait, how did you know that?"

Instead of answering Maqui's shocked questions, Hope shuffled further up the couch to turn his attention to the quiet conversation by the door. He didn't think he was _eavesdropping_ per say, seeing as he wasn't exactly being subtle about listening in. If other people assumed that he was paying attention to Maqui and the movie, then that would be their own assumption.

"I don't think going back up to Cocoon at the time is the best idea." Serah was trying to reason, responding to whatever Bartholomew must have said. "He's no trouble. He could stay with us. There's always someone here to watch over him."

"I've imposed upon your family far too much." Bartholomew insisted. "I'll be taking more time off work and enrolling Hope in the local schools once he's well enough again."

"But what about until then?" Serah tried again. "New Bodhum is a good place—"

"I don't doubt it." His father interjected. "But I want to provide my son with a stable environment. The — the earthquake may force us to start over again, but having him move from one place to the next is not something I can approve of if I can provide better. There's a new settlement out in the wildlands that has been developing at a rapid pace. It's got hospitals and schools… the best this new world can provide. More than that, the Sanctum has no hold over that settlement."

Hope slowly ducked his head behind the back of the couch until he could barely see them. Somehow… somehow he had known that would be his father's decision.

"Mr. Estheim—"

His father shook his head.

It was a good decision, Hope thought. A good settlement on Gran Pulse central to all the other settlements with stable buildings and good technology, populated by those untouched by the Sanctum or Psicom. It was the best decision his father could have made in this situation. Except…

Except everyone else had settled close to New Bodhum. The wildlands was nearly two hours away thanks to the lack of rapid transit. Maybe once a stable train system was established, transit times would be drastically cut down, but that would take… years, at the least. The restoration would focus more on shelter and essentials before road construction could be given any attention.

He grasped tightly at the couch. He could see it in his father's view, but… he didn't want to leave the others.

"Perhaps I'm being selfish here as well." Bartholomew admitted. "But after the Purge… after the earthquake, I want Hope with me in the safest environment I can provide for him."

"I…" Serah looked like she wanted to argue more, looked fierce and disapproving, but bit down on her words. "You're always more than welcome here. I know my sister would say the same: Hope is family. He'd be safe here as well."

"Thank you." Bartholomew's words were quiet, awed. But all Hope could think about was when he and Serah had gotten to know each other well enough for her to say such a thing with such conviction.

.

.

.

The day after Hope had been released from the hospital, and he and his father were on their way to the wildlands, a large part of which had been cleared out to support a bustling settlement with a small handful of buildings starting to shape into something with a semblance of civilization. While New Bodhum had been small and filled with buildings shaped like boxes, mostly residential, this new settlement was preparing itself to soon become a bustling city. There were roads and gleaming steel beams and military droids repurposed for building. The air was lively and filled with smaller airships and aerial machines with arms carrying different metals.

"It's going to be better here." Bartholomew told him, standing behind Hope with his hands on his shoulders in a supportive grasp. "A fresh start."

For a moment Hope was reminded of the times his mom would throw her arms around him and lean her head down against his, laughing at his complaints about how he was too old for hugs like that now. She would hum and dismiss all his whining cheerfully until he stopped squirming and finally admitted defeat to her.

_Don't worry,_ she used to say against his hair, pulling him up close until he complained about suffocation, _Things will turn out better._

And for a long aching moment, Hope missed his mother enough that he could cry.

He was lead to a small two bedroom apartment in one of the temporary housing facilities. The space was narrow and filled with boxes of his stuff from the previous location, some dusty and dirty from having been recovered from the destroyed building.

"It may take them another half year to finish the permanent housing." His father told him as Hope sat gingerly on the unadorned cot in the room designated as his. "The architects want to make sure the land and structures will be secure. No more disasters."

"...Okay." Hope responded. He didn't mind the small apartment. It was as different as could be to his old home, and right now, that was a good thing.

"They've got a good hospital." Bartholomew continued to extol. "Dr. Clive sent a list of physicians who can help you here. And… it's not a lot, but there are classrooms being set up for high school classes. They've got clubs and activities for the kids, too…"

"That sounds good, dad."

His father paused, shoulders slumping slightly. "Listen, Hope. I know this may not be what you would have chosen. New Bodhum was my second choice, but… That would be a short-term plan. New Bodhum is a beautiful place…"

"But it's hiding." Hope completed for him, seeing his father struggle with the words. He was starting to grasp onto things again. He thought about the nurse at the hospital, about how he had been discharged immediately after. "Because everyone still fears l'Cie."

Even if he wasn't one anymore. Even if none of them were l'Cie anymore.

If they all stayed together in one spot, then the people of New Bodhum might get used to them, but no one else would. It would be a secluded place that others refuse to go because of their reputation. The Purge happened because of fear of l'Cie, and everything that followed as well. With it being merely months after the fall, despite the correct information circling around now, not everyone wanted to hear it. Not everyone wanted to believe that the monsters they blamed for the loss of their homes and loved ones weren't monsters at all.

It was going to take time, Hope understood. A lot of time and patience and _showing_ people that the ex-l'Cie were just normal, everyday people.

"It's not that." Bartholomew denied. "Although… yes. A part of the reason is that I want to give you a better future. I can't just think about now, Hope. What happens in five years? Ten? This won't blow over if we don't face it head-on. In ten, twenty, years… I want to make sure that no one will try to hurt you. That no one will—"

"Throw me out of the hospital because I'm a threat to the other kids?"

Bartholomew sighed and rubbed at the skin between his eyes underneath his glasses. "...Too smart for your own good."

Hope didn't think so. If the vehemence and glaring didn't clue someone in, then maybe they were luckier than he was. It wasn't hard to notice when he wasn't wanted in an area. But even so, Hope couldn't figure a good solution to the problem.

"What do I do?" He asked, because it was one thing to understand that it would take time and effort to change the minds of people, but it was another thing entirely when he tried to think of the situation in small-scale. What were the steps necessary in order to spread the truth that the l'Cie weren't monsters, but only whatever the fal'Cie made them out to be? Logically speaking, everyone should already know that. Realistically speaking, no one wanted to acknowledge it.

His father startled at the question, and then knelt in front of him, putting them closer to eye level from where Hope sat on the bed.

"Nothing." His dad said simply. "You just focus on what's in front of you, be in school or making friends or growing up. Let me take care of it. Give me a few years and I'll change everything around. Promise."

There was an unexpected but overwhelming surge of… gratitude? Relief? He wasn't sure why, but suddenly Hope missed his father as well. Missed that very same intense look which delivered promises other people wouldn't be able to carry through. Except his dad was right in front of him, so he wasn't sure how he could _miss_ him.

"I know things seem bad now." The words were hushed, prompting Hope to strain to hear despite the stillness of the room. "But I will make everything okay again."

The words were flat, almost stern, and had it only been a few years ago, Hope might have flinched away at the tone without realizing the words spoken, but now it only prompted a small but genuine smile. Rather than disapproval, it sounded like a fact. It didn't feel like there was much to smile about in this situation, but at least his dad was still the same.

"I believe you."

.

.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so, the days passed quickly after the move. Hope found himself with a schedule quickly enough to settle into his days. He had multiple appointments throughout a day ranging from speech and physical therapy to virtual tutoring sessions from various programs his father installed after they got the computers up and running. Vanille called daily for nearly an hour at a time, usually when the two of them were busy with other things as well so she didn't mind if he was just quiet on the line while she chatted about what she and Fang were up to.

It was nice, he thought. It made the quiet bearable knowing that she was listening and would respond if he said something. Furthermore, Lightning required a daily update from him as well, and Snow usually sent the regards of Serah, Sazh, and Dajh through the same call.

What busied him the most, strangely enough, were the amount of introductions he made through those weeks. Pulse was a wild and dangerous place, with without the help of Psicom, the Guardian Corps had settled in to protect the settlement. Rydgea was the head of that particular branch and often came by to check up on him while Bartholomew was hard at work, bringing various other soldiers with him. Hope wasn't sure if that was because the man wanted to show the soldiers what an ex-l'Cie looked like (short and scrawny still, either too pale or with large red patches of sunburns across exposed skin), or because he genuinely thought that Hope would need to know the entire garrison someday.

When his physical therapy sessions dwindled off, his father proposed the idea of enrolling at the local academy.

"Since it's been several months since most children have gone to any more than basic lessons, they have an assessment exam to determine your placement level. I can schedule you in for one of those next week, and then you'll have plenty to do."

"He said that like I don't already have plenty to do." Hope complained over the phone to Vanille that day. "I was just starting to get a break!"

She giggled over the line. "I'm sure he means well. But if you're going to be tied down soon, why not come for a visit? Or maybe we can head there instead?"

He perked up at the idea, but then glanced around the tiny room he was in. The temporary apartment was alright for two people, especially since Hope hadn't bothered to unpack most of his items, but it would be cramped with any more than that. "...I'll ask if I can visit New Bodhum."

"I would suggest we go swimming, but I suppose it's officially too cold here now." She laughed lightly. "We got our first snowfall of the year today. It's a little bit crazy here. You Cocoon people really don't know how to deal with the weather!"

"Snow?" Hope had to reroute the word in his brain, having acclimated himself to associating the word as a _name_ rather than a descriptor. "You mean like — _real_ snow?"

Had it gotten that cold already? Sure, everyone was wearing a lot more than before and complaining about the temperature, and he could see his breath in front of him whenever he went outside, but actual snow? It never snowed on Cocoon, not unless it was for special occasions. Holidays and the such, when the fal'Cie would listen to the whims of the people and generate light snowfall for select days, all to be melted away without a mess the very next day. Eden had certain parks that used to boast about their snow, becoming busy tourist attractions on certain days of the year. Nautilus used to have special attractions during the winter that would be frozen over into ice.

Hope had forgotten entirely that ice and snow were meant to be actual phenomena rather than controlled spectacles.

"You'll have to dress warm." She told him. "It's colder in New Bodhum than it is down in the wildlands. Serah's been locking people inside if they don't wear enough, so be careful!"

"I still have to ask my dad." Hope reminded her, but couldn't see a reason why his father would say no. "Do you think it'll all melt by the time I get there?"

"Not if you come soon!" She prompted. "Oh, and Lightning's probably going to tell you this later today but Serah took one look today and declared that this is the backdrop she wants to be married in."

"Wait, does that mean — soon? Or next year?" Because the two of them had been engaged for months but never set a date. Hope had never thought to ask about it, either, seeing as if felt like an inevitable flow that Snow and Serah would just eventually get married.

"From the way it sounded, she means _soon_. And the surprising thing is, Lightning's not saying no."

"Wow. That's just… wow."

"It's all very exciting." Vanille said. "So make sure you came soon, okay? I don't even know if they're going to just wake up tomorrow morning and decide that they're going to get married that day. I never took Serah to like sudden things, but I guess a lot can change."

_A lot can change._ Hope stared blankly down at his computer, feeling a flash of recognition. It felt like Vanille had cut herself off there from saying more. A lot can change… what? To a person? He shouldn't be questioning it, not when it was such an innocuous statement, but lately little things like that — like Vanille cutting herself off from saying something, or Lightning's insistent questions — they all felt very… odd.

"I'll send dad a message." Hope promised. He looked up, feeling lost all of a sudden. He wondered why. "I'll call you again first thing."

"Okay." Vanille responded brightly. "I'll tell Lightning, then!"

He hung up after their usual goodbyes, feeling quite odd. Hope rubbed at the back of his head, where there was a patch of hair still shorter than the rest and a bump of scar tissue slowly fading away. It was an odd sensation, reminding him of when he actually browsed through the medical files on his dad's computer. Most of the words felt like medical jargon to him, but the notes had been quite clear.

Acute subdural hematoma. A massive bleed within his skull. According to the chances of survival, Hope was very lucky to be alive, much less without permanent damage. An injury of that scale, along with the coma, was bound to cause some… changes.

Nightmares, Hope thought faintly.

He had done his best to ignore them, as they weren't too frequent, but there was a quality about the dreams that felt just as real than his waking hours. And it was strange. He would dream of cities he was certain didn't exist, of towering architecture and computers constructed of ores he had never seen before designed in shapes he had never imagined.

He struggled at first to discern reality, sometimes calling his therapists by the wrong name or confusing himself about where he was and what he was doing. Things got better as time went on, and everyone assumed he was confused because of his injury anyway. Maybe he was. Maybe all his paranoia and oddness came from that.

Hope sent off a quick message asking his father if he could visit New Bodhum before his examination, and then lingered on the computer. He had searched up a few terms on whim before in the past several weeks, but none of them had yielded any results.

He clicks through sites that he's already navigated, news on what's happening in the world around them, rumor sites, and the official news on how Lake Bresha had been closed off to the public to dedicate as a memorial for the Purge victims. They were building a monument with the names of every person who died there on that day.

Hope hesitated, eyes scanning the article. It had taken a while, but all the names had been gathered in one place and were to be carved into a gravestone within the crystalline waves of Lake Bresha. The list on the site invited everyone to contribute in case they missed someone.

And there, amidst the hundreds of other names, was _Nora Estheim_.

It was a very long list, and Hope made sure to read each and every name, even if he wouldn't be able to memorize everything. They all deserved a moment of his recognition, at the very least. There was a tightness in his chest — had he met any of them? Had he run past one of those names before, had he breezed by them and would have seen their faces if only he had taken the time to turn his head?

At the very end of the list, he stopped and stared.

_Alyssa Zaidelle_.

The name brought a shiver, but he shook it away. It couldn't be. He was just imagining things, that was all. It was probably just another name he heard before from somewhere else, maybe someone else. He…

There was a list of comments under the article, mostly from people still mourning or adding names, or from those demanding more than just a memorial to honor the dead. Even as he scrolled down to avoid the so familiar name, Hope's attention was caught by something else on the site.

_Hope.  
>When you see this and you believe they exist.<br>Come find me._

_._

_._

_._

New Bodhum was a sea of white, the beach itself pockmarked with footprints of children who had already run up and down the entire length of the beach in their excitement, contrasted with the brilliant white-blue of the ocean beyond, looking just as it did the last time Hope had been there. There were still thick white flakes falling from the sky, making the entire scene look quite magical.

Vanille's outfit had been new to him as well, thick material sewn with beading covering every inch of her skin besides her face, a woolen hat pulled over her head and ears and warm fur lining her neck and gloves and now much higher boots and a new, darker fur skirt brushing her legs. There were leather knots interlacing her top as an accent, the same color as her gloves and boots.

"Do you like it?" She exclaimed, twirling in a circle for him. "Serah got me the fabric, and Fang got all the leather."

"Did you do the beading?" Hope admired. "It looks really good."

Sazh had offered to bring him in an airship the night prior after Bartholomew agreed to the trip. When updated with the impending wedding, his father agreed to try his best to be there on the condition that he was given three days' advance notice. He wouldn't be able to stay an entire day, but for the several hours needed, he might wheedle some time off work or bring his work with him.

It was the best that Bartholomew could promise, and Hope knew enough to appreciate the offer.

"I did." She confirmed, beaming. "I could make you an outfit, too."

"I'm good, but thanks." He declined, raising mittened hands in defeat. "I've got too many clothes already."

That was mostly thanks to an impromptu online shopping session the night before which resulted in the outfit he was wearing and the two more he brought along with him. It had always been his mother who picked out clothes for him since Hope's only stipulations were that they were comfortable and that he wouldn't be ostracized by the other kids for them.

That meant the result of his shopping (thanks to the funds his father transferred to him for whatever he would need) consisted of mostly bland and pale colors that he would be able to coordinate with every outfit. Other than simple black boots and dark pants, Hope had decided on white and yellow jacket paired with a long pale blue scarf which he had wrapped several times around his throat and covered the bottom half of his face as well. On a whim, he had also decided on a handful of large sweaters and cardigans to grow into, seeing as the cold was starting to reach the settlement as well.

Vanille was sighing in front of him, her gloved hands raised to his cheeks. "You look so mature like this, Hope. Cheer up! We're still young, we're supposed to take advantage of being silly and play around. You shouldn't frown so much." She paused, giving him a critical eye before smiling again. "At least you're still smaller than me."

He made a noise of protest, but didn't pull away as she laughed. Eventually her hands found his and she tugged him along, slinging one of his bags over her shoulder even as Sazh waved them away with a smile and a murmured protest about kids.

"Everyone's been waiting for you." She said as she pulled him along the track between the hanger for the airships and the housing area. Hope looked down at the snow as he stepped along, marvelling in the crunching noises under his feet and the crisp feel of everything. "I don't think anyone's very happy about the fact that you're so far away. It doesn't help that, well, Lightning's been out a lot too lately…"

"Even though Serah said she wants to get married?"

"Well not _now_. She's back here now. Everyone's back here now just waiting for the two of them to decide on the big day! Lebreau's been running around trying to find things for a wedding, and Serah's been dress shopping except Lightning keeps turning down her choices… oops." She threw a guilty grin his way. "Not sure I was supposed to say that."

"Sounds really busy." Hope sympathized with her, rather than bringing up her mistake. He smiled, and curled his hand around hers. "Now I feel like I'm the one who's been slacking."

"That's not true!" They stepped past a frozen over garden with the beginnings of a fence and perhaps a roof being built over it. "You were busy getting better and settling into your new home, right? It must be hard."

Hope shrugged, but didn't respond as they were greeted by Snow, dressed up to the brim and almost resembling a marshmallow in his thick grey coat.

"You're here!" The man greeted Hope, taking both his bag and the one Vanille was holding onto in one fell swoop despite Vanille's squeak of protest. "Good. You can help out with the preparations."

"Right now?" Vanille protested. "He hasn't even gotten settled in yet! Don't you need to show him his room and let him put everything down first?"

"Ahh…" Snow wilted under Vanille's disapproving posture, bringing a hand to rub at the back of his head. "Alright, alright. We'll get to that afterward. But the decorations will have to go up soon, so I'll need the both of you to help out after that."

"That's fine." Hope told him, and Vanille nodded in assent. "What's going on, though? You guys aren't having the wedding _today_, are you?"

Snow laughed, and walked along with them to the front door, which took some struggle to open as a wave of heat was blasted in their faces. They entered the housing complex quickly, and pulled the squeaky door shut tightly behind them before any of the snow could drift in. "Of course not. But a wedding takes preparation, you know? And Serah wants to do this soon, so… we're going to have to start as soon as possible."

"Impatient." Vanille teased, pulling off her hat to throw over on the couch as they went along. The housing area had been transformed as well, painted in warm colors with plenty of lighting and blankets tossed all around the area. Hope glanced around as they made their way down a hallway, the walls covered with drawing by children as well as shelves and other storage areas.

"Where did the drawings come from?"

"Oh, those?" It was Snow who answered. "Serah's been teaching the kids around town. Pretty popular with them, too. Heh. Who would have thought, right?"

Hope glanced from the drawings over to them just in time to catch Vanille's smile dim just a little.

"Right. Who would have thought." She agreed, still smiling, but it felt subdued.

He decided that they should probably change subjects, not wanting to see her upset. "And all the blankets?"

"Ha! Those?" At that, Snow glanced around and grinned, proudly jabbing a thumb at himself. "That's all me! Took up knitting. What do you think? They look good, don't they?"

Hope gaped, and looked back toward the entry room for a moment before staring at Snow. "No way. You? That's… there must have been a dozen blankets there. _Knit?_"

"Isn't it surprising?" Vanille elbowed him lightly. "Apparently Snow's very good at it, and very fast. He's been at it every time he sits down, and… well. He's going to have to start a store soon. Or start giving them away."

"I have my talents." Snow preened, and raised a fist to knock on the wooden door before them with the back of his knuckles. "And here we go. Your room!"

The door opened with only the slightest creak, revealing a small room (only slightly larger than his own back home) painted in a warm brown with a simple desk and chair alongside a single bed and dresser. There were several shoves above the desk and bed, and while it was mostly empty, there were a few stuffed animals and knitted blankets and books to keep it from looking entirely barren.

"We got you your own room." Vanille told him. "So you can come back any time at all, and you'll have a place here."

Hope stepped inside, his bag slipping from mittened fingers as he gazed at the simple desk, the dark green blankets and pillows, and felt a warmth knotting itself into his chest.

"_Officially,_" Snow insisted, "it's a guest room. Unofficially, it's your room any time you want it. And if you do ever end up back here, then it would officially be your room."

"Oh, alright, _officially_. But that just doesn't sound as nice, does it?"

Hope stepped in a circle before dropping down heavily onto the bed, feeling himself bounce slightly on it. He took off his mittens and unwrapped his scarf, breathing easier now that he wasn't overly warm, and leaned back just slightly to run his fingers down the soft blankets. There was a desk light and even a string of smaller lights running its way around the circumference of the ceiling, giving the room a cozy glow.

He had to swallow once, twice, in order to find his voice again. "...Thanks."

Snow's grin softened into a smile to match Vanille's. "No problem, kid. But! Don't forget, you're helping me with the decorations after you put everything away!"

.

.

Most of the supposed decorations were really just directing people around and trying to find what flowers grew in the cold weather as well as what flowers could be imported to New Bodhum at this time of year. Snow snuck away several times on 'business' but tended to come back fairly quickly with pockets filled with snacks with he would empty into Hope's pockets whenever Lebreau started shouting about someone stealing her food.

He ran into Fang just once and only briefly as the woman swooped down upon him to tousle his hair, laughing as he dropped the box he was carrying in surprise, before Vanille called her away.

"Well, don't you look the little grown up?" Fang laughed, standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. "Don't try too hard now, or Vanille might just put ribbons in your hair!"

Hope patted down his hair as she went on her way, now feeling a little self-conscious about his clothes. What was wrong with them?

"Don't worry about it." Snow told him as the carted more boxes into different areas. At the point, Hope had stopped wondering just what was _inside_ the boxes and just went onto the next task with the impression that he might find out what he was actually doing after he was done. "You just look a lot more mature. It's not a bad thing."

"Okay, now I know it's an issue if _you're_ going to talk about it, too." Hope said flatly, and glared openly at the next mirror they passed. He was fairly dressed down with his dark pants and white buttoned down shirt covered with a pale yellow cardigan. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing! You just — well, like I said, you look more mature. Not that the shorts and sneakers weren't cute before. I guess we were expecting something more like that."

"It's winter. It's _snowing_ outside."

"Overall, it may have been a dumb assumption." Snow admitted.

Hope rolled his eyes, and decided that he should just ignore the topic. It was far too easy to point out that his mother picked his clothes and fashion before, and that he couldn't bring himself up to care enough about what he looked like any more. It wasn't as if kids, or anyone at all, were going to look at what he was wearing and decide whether he was cool or not. Now all they would see when they looked at him would probably be _l'Cie_ rather than _kid_. It didn't feel right to concentrate on fashion now. Clothing was useful for warmth and to convey meaning, but Hope didn't have the energy to expend to _fashion_.

"Where's Lightning, anyway?" He asked instead, looking around as they walked. "Or Serah?"

Snow gave an exaggerated sigh as they reached the storage room, and he set the box he was carrying down with a heavy clatter, rolling his shoulders afterwards. Hope had a nagging suspicion he had been given the much lighter box, especially as he managed to drop his on the desk as well and it barely made the lightest of thumping noises.

"Wouldn't know." The blond admitted. "Sis has been all hush-hush lately. I'm surprised she hasn't shown herself yet. Your room was her idea, you know. Not that she'd ever admit it. Serah, though, she's probably in her room working on her sewing. I'm not allowed in 'cause I can't see the dress or something."

Snow grinned to himself. "Not that the dress matters. Serah's beautiful no matter what she wears. Doesn't matter if she wants to wear a paper bag over her head."

"I think it matters to _her_," Hope pointed out. He stretched his arms above his head for a few seconds. While his boxes hadn't been heavy, the size of them tended to cramp up his arms after some time because it was a strain just to get his arms around those things. "Dad said he'd try to attend if you tell him three days in advance."

"Then you might want to just call him down now." Snow told him, but then paused. "Or not. I don't know when Serah's going to be finished. Sewing takes a while, right?"

"If it takes too long, maybe you can knit her a dress." Hope suggested.

"Yeah, ha ha. Getting a straight pattern out is a lot different than making a dress, kid!"

The left the room just as Vanille called out, "Hope! I need your help here!"

"Better go see what's up, kid." Snow suggested, tilting his head in the direction of the call. "I'll get the rest of those boxes."

Snow gave a wave and tousled Hope's hair for a moment before he left, and Hope worked his way over to where he had heard Vanille calling out. It was a different side of the house, so he made sure to step extra carefully and knock at the closed door, which was opened promptly.

"Oh good," Vanille chirped at him, pulling him inside. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her, then."

"Wait, what—"

"_Serah_ wants to get married while there's still snow out, but now she wants to wait and everyone's already half prepared already!" Vanille huffed, hands on her hips as she stared accusingly at the pink-haired woman sitting at the desk, wincing at her words. "No one's going to mind if you wait, but you need to at least give us a reason! It doesn't even have to be a good one. Anything I could tell the others."

"I'm not actually cancelling," Serah protested from where she was sitting at her desk, a heavy sewing machine laid out along with bolts of fabric across the room. There were little pieces of cut cloth all around her, beautifully white. "It was just — I thought maybe waiting a little longer would be the best idea."

Vanille didn't even dignify that with a response, instead whirling to face Hope. "See what I mean?"

Serah seemed to wilt a bit in her seat, although her expression remained as determined. "I'm just nervous, Vanille. That's all. I'm — I'm sure I'll feel better when Lightning comes back."

"Um…" Hope shifted from foot to foot where he stood, and cringed back slightly both of them shifted their attention to him. This wasn't exactly an argument he could take a side on. "What exactly did you need me to do, then?"

"Oh!" Vanille thumped one fist into her other hand in remembrance. "I just needed you to cut out some fabric for me while I go fetch more materials from Lebreau. We're on a tight schedule here, so every little bit helps!"

She gestured to where the bed in the center of the room had been covered with a thick wooden board with measurements, and a large piece of shining white material was sitting at the center, outlined in dark chalk. "You need to cut a little outside the line, but don't worry if you actually hit the measurement's meant to be a little big so we can fix anything we do wrong. Here."

"Uhh." Hope accepted the scissors gingerly, surprised by just how large and heavy the object was. It felt a little more like a hand-held garden sheer than scissors. "Okay?"

Vanille beamed at him and made an aborted action to pull him into an embrace before remembering that he was still holding onto a dangerous object. "Thanks so much. I'll be back in a jiffy, then! And see if you can talk to Serah about those insecurities of hers. Can't have it build up to explode on the big day, after all."

She bounded out in a hurry, closing the door softly behind herself, and Hope felt a moment of awkwardness as he turned back toward the material on the bed. Serah seemed suspiciously silent, probably from embarrassment considering the topic he had walked in on.

"I, uh," he flailed mentally for something to diffuse the heavy atmosphere. "I hope you've got more fabric just in case I mess up here. I've never actually used scissors like this before."

Serah turned in her chair to look at him, almost staring through him for a moment before she focused. "Oh. Oh, Hope, you don't have to do that if you don't want to. Fabric scissors can really hurt someone."

"No, I can do it." He reassured her. "I'm just warning you in case I mess up." And he leant down to pose the scissors at the edge of the fabric, hesitating only slightly before sliding it up, the fabric giving way like butter under a hot knife.

Serah stayed silent for another few moments, her hands wringing the white material she was holding. "...I'm sorry you had to hear that. I want to get married, I do. I love Snow and he's my hero and there's nothing more I want to marry him."

Hope merely nodded, paying close attention to his task at hand and not daring to look up in case it someone discouraged Serah from continuing.

"It's just…" And here she huffed, exasperated with herself. "It's just silly, I suppose. Me. I guess I'm just waiting."

"Waiting?"

She paused, and then shook her head. "Nothing. See? Just me being silly. I'm not cancelling."

They returned to their work after that, and Hope snipped carefully outside the chalked lines on the fabric, the scissors sliding through with a slick sounding _snip_ each time.

"Are you waiting for someone to show up?" He asked quietly.

"Well, there's your dad." Serah tried to joke. "And Lightning seems gone more often than not."

"Are you…" Hope made one last snip and set down the scissors carefully as the fabric gave way. "Are you waiting for Noel to show up?"

.

.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The writing might have gotten hectic and weirdly prose-y toward the end since I've been trying to pad my wordcount up and went in for a few wordwars. Unsurprisingly, wordwars don't exactly make for great writing on my part, but at least they get done! Six days into NaNo now - get ready, guys, we're going for gold!


	3. Days7-8

Days 7-9

.

.

.

From her corner of the room, Serah froze entirely.

"You are." Hope confirmed to himself quietly, keeping his gaze on the cut fabric. "He's the only one missing, right? Since he wasn't here at the beginning."

He looked up to see Serah's wide blue eyes staring at him. It had been a gamble to bring up the name, but the devastated expression on her face meant that he was right. Or even if he wasn't right on the assumption, then he was right about something else because he had dreamt this in hazy glimpses and they weren't just something from his coma because it was _real_.

He swallowed heavily, his mouth feeling exceptionally dry and his heart pounding heavily. "I'm right… aren't I?"

Serah stared at him for another moment, and then opened her mouth to respond before opting out of it and shaking her head. She must have reworded her thoughts in her head. "How did you — did someone tell you that name?"

"No." Instead, he had found _Alyssa_ and she couldn't just be a figment of his imagination attached to a name he could have heard from somewhere, someone, else. She was from Palumpolum and she had been friends with Elida and.. "But you remember him. Do the others know? That you're waiting?"

Serah set down her material, and her expression twisted into one of grief. "...No. They… they don't remember him. Vanille almost does. She says his name sounds familiar, but… Lightning's the only other person who knows who he is. She knows, and she's trying to figure out…" She shook her head, pink wisps of hair flying into her face even as she brought up a hand to cover her eyes. "They don't remember. You're not supposed to remember, either. She said you wouldn't. I thought — especially when you walked into the room looking like—"

They had known. Serah, Lightning, Vanille… at least the three of them. Maybe more? But they had _known_ and they hadn't told him anything and Hope thought he was going crazy this entire time except he wasn't and now he had proof but they had _known_ and they purposely hadn't told him.

His heart was pounding at the discovery, and Hope breathed out a slow breath, not daring to say anything before that. Of course they hadn't told him. Serah was obviously in pain because the others didn't remember, and if they thought that he wouldn't remember either, then of course they wouldn't have brought it up.

His fingers were clenched tightly, and he had to consciously force them to relax.

"...We couldn't tell you." Serah told him quietly. "You were so badly hurt… we couldn't. I'm sorry, Hope. We should have. _You_ would have. But no one was sure if you'd ever wake up, and then you did and it just — Lightning said you wouldn't remember. She didn't tell me why, but she said she was sure. We don't even know what happened. One minute we were all… one minute everything was different and then the next we were all back _here_."

Her voice broke off, and Hope would have told her that she could stop. Should have said something comforting then because it was obvious that Serah was having a hard time telling him this. He should have been better than the numbness he felt at that moment because he hadn't been dreaming.

Did that mean his nightmares were real?

"I died." He said, tone flat. "That's what I remembered. I don't remember the earthquake. I just…"

"I'm sorry." Serah burst out again, leaning forward in her seat and shaking her head. "That was why — none of us wanted you to remember that! It was all different for us, and." She cut off sharply, brows furrowed. "I… shouldn't say anything. Lightning would want to tell you. I know it."

"But what do you _mean_?" The tone was sharper than he meant for it to be.

"We wanted to save you." Serah's voice was barely above a whisper when she finally answered. "We just wanted to save your life. I'm sorry, Hope. I'm really sorry."

.

.

They had fallen silent again by the time Vanille burst back into the room cheerfully, and Hope excused himself quickly, winding his way around the Pulsian girl before any questions could be asked. Maybe he had been too abrupt, but his mind was spinning. He didn't know enough. He needed to learn more. He hadn't meant for that conversation to happen — he just wanted to confirm with Serah that he wasn't crazy because that's how he was starting to feel lately.

Her words only brought up more questions: what happened? Why didn't the others remember? What did _she_ remember, because Hope was certainly having trouble sorting out his own thoughts and memories? What else were they hiding from him?

He meandered down the hall toward the entrance, and wondered whether it was a good idea to head toward the room designated for him (bad idea, that would be the first place anyone would check if they wanted to find him) or if he wanted to thrown on his jacket and head outside to cool off (sounded great, but would probably be a worse idea because he didn't want to worry anyone — he just needed the space).

Lightning knew. She knew and she was out there trying to find answers and for some reason she had been sure that he wouldn't remember. _Why?_

He wasn't sure what he remembered (dreamt?). There was rain and bullets and buildings that stretched into the sky. He… he remembered a cheerful blond girl who would reassure him at times and unnerve him at others. He…

Outside, he decided. He needed the space to think without being interrupted by anyone else.

Hope made his way back to his bedroom and grabbed his coat and scarf, shoving his mittens into his pocket just as he left the room once again and quietly made his way as quick as possible toward the entrance, speed walking right past Yuj and telling him, "Going to go check out this snow — be back later!" all in a jumble of words.

He ducked his head at the questioning tone, cheeks flushing from just how childish his excuse sounded. Not only that, but the way he was behaving entirely… It was only when he struggled to open the door (it seemed to be a little stuck, and needed some desperate oiling of those old style hinges) and slipped out into the cold did he remember to put his mittens on again. The temperature difference between inside and outside of the house was striking, enough to make him catch his breath because it felt like ice down his lungs otherwise.

Hope pulled his jacket tighter around himself, zipping it all the way to the top. It hadn't been that cold just hours ago when he first got here. Either the warmth of the house really affected him, or the temperature had someone managed to drop even lower during those sunlit hours (and it was a possibility, especially seeing as the sun was about to set soon now that the days were growing shorter and shorter). It was still snowing, and the footprints on the beach looked shallower now, more filled in.

He took a step, crunching on the whiteness, and then stopped at the reminder that he would be leaving a very visible trail. Hope stared down for a moment, wondering just what he was doing. Running away? No, he just… needed to think. He wasn't sure he could confront the others right now. Not even Lightning. Maybe especially Lightning. No matter how well-intentioned they were… well, confrontation right now would be a bad idea until he worked things out.

He headed the direction of the mountains, stepping over the small perimeter fence easily and climbing up the rocks carefully. Nearly half a year ago, he might have been able to traverse the area easily, jumping from rock to rock, but that time was long over and he retained little of his l'Cie strength. Most of that likely wasn't l'Cie strength at all, but remnants of the training Lightning had put him through.

Still, in the snowy and unfamiliar terrain, Hope didn't want to take any more risks. For all he knew, the rocks could have iced over under the snowfall and one missed step would lead him to fall off the entire thing.

It didn't take too long until he felt too hot under the long scarf, even though his fingers were starting to numb from the cold. He took a break on one of the larger rocks, sitting down on the snow and bringing his hands up to blow warm breaths into the fabric, hoping that the warm moisture would seep through the thick material. The back of his neck felt gross as well, edges of his hair sticking to his skin where it was pressed down by his scarf. It was —

His breath caught as he gazed out onto the entirety of New Bodhum. If the view from the beach had been magic, what he could see mid-way up the sharp incline of the mountain was nothing short of breath-taking. The buildings were weighed down by untouched snow clinging to every surface it could, even to uneven ridges and paneling. Smoke was rising from the housing complex, dark and warm as it curled into the sky. Even the waves on the ocean looked whiter, brighter, added to the scenery.

Hope pulled his knees up where he sat, leaning forward as he continued to attempt to warm his hands through his mittens. He wondered if Cocoon would now experience natural snowfall as well, now that the fal'Cie weren't monitoring the weather so closely.

_Yes,_ was the unexpected but adamant answer. Even the settlement in the wildlands, the one that would eventually grow to become a city, perhaps one of the capital cities on Pulse… He could see the winding roads in his mind, glistening spires stretching up into the sky…

Hope slouched forward, feeling tired. Maybe he had been too harsh on Serah. Maybe he was being too harsh on everyone else. He certainly couldn't remember things in concrete details, not yet at least, so maybe they were correct in his 'not remembering' anything. Even now, he couldn't yet name the city. He couldn't understand his dreams.

He really did die. The knowledge was bitter and heavy, confirmed by Serah's apologies. The feeling of darkness was real.

Hope shuddered, curling into a tighter ball.

He sat there for what could be minutes or hours, enjoying the quiet snowfall around him and willing his fingers and toes to stay warm. There was something hypnotising about the peaceful beach, about the quiet in contrast to the hustle and bustle inside the housing unit. It made his thoughts feel quiet as well, slow and calm enough for him to consider going back.

They would need the help with wedding preparations. Serah would still go through with the wedding soon unless Lightning came back with positive news. And even then… he wondered just how things would turn. Best case scenario… what?

He shivered involuntarily.

"So this is where you've been hiding yourself away."

There was a crunch of snow behind him, and Hope glanced in the direction of the familiar voice. Fang stood behind him, her lance raised and balanced over one shoulder as she looked out onto the town. She was wearing the same black and blue outfit he had seen her in earlier, her outfit black and skintight and foregoing gloves, the familiar sari wrapped tighter around her than in warmer weather to form a short tunic. The only real concession she gave to the weather was a pair of knee high brown leather boots lined with fur.

"It's a good view, I'll give you that." She said lightly. "Sure beats all the noise down there."

Hope pursed his lips, the lower part of his face still covered by his scarf and the mittens he was breathing into. He wasn't sure if she was there on her volition or whether she had heard from Serah that something was wrong. He couldn't see why she would come out to look for him, but then again, Fang could have just been passing through.

She gave a nod at the beach and looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. "Well? If you don't get up soon, I'll be leaving you behind."

And with a single bound, she jumped onto a higher rock, leaving Hope scrambling to stand up and move limbs tingling from the cold. He slipped slightly on the rock, but caught himself in time long before he could fall over. He had expected her to go _down_, but…

"Haven't got all day here!" She called, and continued up.

Hope braced his arms in the snow of the higher rock, and pushed himself up. It took some effort, but he got his entire body up, before steadying himself up for the next stone up. It was times like this he missed his natural l'Cie resilience and strength. Even his balance had been better back then. It was all he could do but marvel at the ease Fang was scaling the mountain, her movements as smooth as it had been before the Fall. In contrast, he was barely trailing behind her, just as he had behind Lightning back in the Vile Peaks.

Like Lightning, Fang didn't turn back to lend him a hand, insteading continuing on her way in the assumption that Hope would follow her no matter how hard the obstacle before him.

She was right. Hope grit his teeth as he pushed himself up once again, his pace much faster than before when he had been climbing just to find a space to think. He braced himself against the next rock and jumped up, pushing his entire weight onto his arms as he struggled to brace his knee against the side of the rock and get up.

He looked up as he succeeded onto another stone, catching Fang staring down at him from nearly a dozen meters above him, expression unreadable.

Somehow, her casual stance (clearly waiting for him when she said she wouldn't), made him speed up in his efforts to get where she was.

It took nearly five minutes, and his arms were shaking with exhaustion even as his bangs stuck to his face when he struggled for breath by the time he reached the top, bent over double with his hands braced against his knees. His physical therapy hadn't been anywhere as strenuous, coupled with the rough and slippery surfaces and the cold that was now making him shiver as the wind picked up against the dampness of his exposed skin.

The cold stung his throat and lungs as he breathed in heavily through his mouth, bangs plastered to his face and dripping from perspiration and melted snow.

"Can't say I expected more." Fang commented, and twirled her lance before harnessing the weapon to her back as she usually carried it. "But it sure doesn't sound like you're doing too well there, kid."

"'m fine." Hope wheezed out, pushing himself to stand straight up again and willing his heartbeat to slow along with his breathing. "I'm fine now. Just needed a moment."

"Good. 'Cause I certainly ain't heading back just to hold your hand on the way down." She jerked her head toward where they had come up, the slope looking much steeper and even more dangerous from the top. "We don't come back until we bag ourselves something shiny."

"Shiny…?" Hope pushed his wet bangs back with a mitten, grimacing slightly at the way his skin prickled in the cold.

"We're hunting." Fang explained to him. "Creatures more elusive when it gets this cold. But a person's gotta eat, and there's always a need for the leather. So you do your part on keeping up, and I'll show you a thing or two them others won't let you take part in anymore."

The honesty of the words almost stung, but it was far more honest than the lies and omissions he had been struggling with before. The others _had_ been overprotective the past few weeks. Vanille was always eager to hear about everything he might have to say, and before he moved to the settlement, had been around to accompany him for every little thing. Lightning kept more tabs on him than she had when they had been l'Cie, and even Snow hovered in the times they were together.

Hearing Fang speak so plaintively now made him stand up taller, his back straighter as he realized that at the very least, she wouldn't put the effort into babying. "Okay. Where do we start?"

Fang's grin was almost feral, her approval apparent.

"That's the spirit."

.

.

Oerba Yun Fang was a hunter and a warrior, through and through. It was exhilarating just running to catch up with her footsteps, holding his breath in an effort to silence himself even if his movements felt loud and awkward compared to her silent steps and lithe form.

She hushed him when she determined was was being too loud, and would turn and glare when he stumbled, waiting until he composed himself again. Hope could feel his face grow warm with embarrassment every mistake that he made, yet Fang never ordered he go back or told him he was a hassle to deal with.

They made their way down a snowy terrain, leaving heavy footprints in the snow until Hope slowly learned the movement of Fang's steps and quiet the tread of his boots more. It wasn't something she could have taught him verbally, he found, even as he attempted imitate her movements more. There was just something to be learned from watching, from being there, that couldn't have possibly been translate through a textbook or a lecture.

"You have a weapon on you?" She asked as they leaned upon the trunk of a skeletal tree, its thin branches blackened and weighed down with snow and icicles.

He nodded, and reached into the pouch he always carried with him (and he was so glad that he always took it with him now, always there until it was second nature to strap the bag to his belt when he first dressed in the morning and then unstrap it when he would get ready for bed.

The weight of his boomerang was familiar and yet not, the grip worn smooth from how much he used it. The colors were starting to dull and it would soon need polishing, but the Airwing would hold up for now even if his mittens made the hold clumsy.

Hope had long packed away the boomerang he ended up using during the end of their l'Cie journey, the very same one crafted up on the fly on Gran Pulse before they decided to head back to Eden and face their Focus. Nue was too large to carry safely, almost as tall as he was when completely unfolded, thick and heavy and packed with as much magic as he had been able to shove into an item back then. He hadn't cared what it looked like at the time, focusing more on the fact that he needed the weapon to help him be strong, be ibetter/i... the result had been a nearly monstrous thing that looked more wicked and threatening than any boomerang should look.

That he had stuffed on the very bottom of his boxes, safe from prying eyes. It was a private thing, reminding him of times he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to know about. It reminded him of his despair back then, his desperation and his terror. It was also a symbol of his strength and conviction, one formed from desperation and pushing limits he hadn't even know he had back then.

He snapped his wrist down to unfurl the boomerang, the click like the warmth of memories.

"Good." Fang approved with a nod. "Now, I'd have Vanille nagging at me if you come back bloody, but I shouldn't have to tell you what to do. Stay out of the way, help when you can."

Hope nodded in assent, and Fang placed a finger on her lips to quiet him. He followed her lead when she crouched down low, and then slunk out from around the tree trunk. He couldn't see anything out beyond the tree, but if she instructed him to be quiet, then there must have been something out there he couldn't sense but he could.

Her lance was out and ready, gripped tightly and at a even height with her elbow. Her foots moved silent across the snow despite how each step sunk her foot down to the ankle in the white field. Hope went slower, stepping where she stepped mostly to reduce the amount of sounds he made. He hadn't mastered how to move silent across the snow, and most likely wouldn't be able to for a long time considering the crunching sound every time he stepped down, but he figured out how to at least lessen the noise so far.

It was around an edge of stones when Fang stopped and signalled for him to stop as well. Hope held his breath as he came up behind her, muscles tense despite the ache from climbing the mountain. She jerked her head forward, not making a sound, and Hope glanced in that direction to see a small pack of Leyaks fluttering around.

There were perhaps four of them in total, and while they weren't the strongest of monsters on Gran Pulse (perhaps some of the weakest), it was always a challenge to fight them due to the fact that they could summon much stronger allies if given the time to fight back.

Fang held out four fingers below her, and then three, two, one…

Her attack was silent and smooth, leaping out from their hiding spot and in one fell swoop cutting down one of the Leyaks and injuring another that was standing too close to that one.

Hope braced himself, taking a split second to calculate the distance, arc, and strength needed for the throw before launching his boomerang with all his might, jumping slightly in the snow as the weapon left his hand. The boomerang flew up high and then arced down, hitting one of the Leyaks hard before bouncing up and flying to the next one, and then the last, before it came back to his hands.

Alerted of their presence too late, the Leyaks took a second too long to realize that they were being attacked — just enough time for Fang to launch another attack at the Leyak she previously injured, spearing her lance through the creature entirely and then pulling her lance out, the Leyak dropping down.

Two more, and one of them was already flapping tiny wings furiously as they jumped in a circle, a movement Hope was far too familiar. He aimed another throw at the Leyak that was summoning, ignoring the other one even as it raced toward him, having deemed him a lesser threat than Fang.

"Is that all you got?" Fang taunted, laughing as she whirled back and then slashed forward, aiming for the summoning Leyak as well. The damage was lessor this time due to the summons, but there was still significant damage, especially when combined with Hope's attack landing at the same time.

Hope jumped up to catch his boomerang as he arced back toward him, and then took off in a run as the last Leyak made its way toward him, sliding dangerously on the snow as he got closer to the battle than he should, but couldn't avoid.

There was a brilliant light as the summoning continued, and Fang continued to attack the Leyak even as Hope moved to put some distance between himself and the last imp, which seemed intent on attacking him. He threw his boomerang one more time, not at his pursuer but at the summoner, and then raced faster to get to the projected location where his boomerang could arc afterward.

Fang let out a battle cry as she gave one final attack on the summoning imp, slashing twice with her lance before jumping high into the air, her movements triggering a mechanic on her weapon which separated it into two, allowing her to attack with both hands, movements furious and swift to use both ends of her lance.

Hope's Airwing came down with Fang's blows, adding its own damage, however meager, before turning back toward Hope. As Fang's succession of blows came to an end, the summoning ended as well — luckily for the two of them, because they had managed to take that Leyak out before it could finish the summon.

Hope struggled to force down his triumphant grin, and the nearly lost his balance as he slid on a large patch of ice.

Fang's lance (once again complete) came close to skewering him as it flew right by, inches away from his face as he fell, and he rolled away the moment he hit the ice, the breath knocked out of him but still aware that he was being chased by the last imp. As he rolled to his back and looked up, his arm raised in a position to throw his weapon, he finally saw the last of the Leyaks impaled on Fang's lance against the side of the rocks, still struggling slightly before its movements finally slowed and eventually stopped.

It was silent for a moment before Fang started laughing. Hope's eyes were wide, and he lowered his boomerang, using his elbows to push himself up into a sitting position before he smiled as well. Within seconds, they were both laughing at the exhilaration of battle.

It was the first time in months Hope felt like he had accomplished something.

.

.

.

They stumbled back to the housing unit in New Bodhum long after it was already dark, Fang's steps triumphant as several carcasses hung from her lance in a hastily tried net, and Hope trailing behind her with his new clothes scraped and dirtied and a bruise across his cheek (not from any of the fights, but from banging his face against the rocks in the dark as they climbed back down again) and his mittens shoved back into his pockets again, his fingers red from cold and scraped of skin on several knuckles, but more steady than they had been in days.

It was Vanille who greeted them first, expression tight and disapproving as she saw the state of them. Her lips tightened into a thin line, but she didn't protest when Fang gifted her with the spoils and pulled her into an embrace. She didn't say anything even when the older woman shook half melted snow onto her hair and clothes.

"I'm going to get cleaned up." Fang declared once she freed herself from the monster carcasses. "Give me a shout first before anyone joins me, yeah?"

She laughed at her own joke before making her way down the hall, giving a wave but not looking back.

Hope felt his earlier adrenaline start to wear off as Vanille gave him a wide-eyed pout, half disappointment and half hurt.

"I, uh." He stammered, shifting uneasily under the weight of her disapproval. "I told Yuj earlier that I'd come back."

That seemed to be all it took for Vanille to finally burst out, "You just left! Serah told me what you said, and she didn't know what to say or what to do and I didn't know either but I tried to look for you and I didn't even know you left until I panicked and Lebreau had to tell me that you were outside. And then I tried to follow your footsteps but Snow said you'd come back on your own terms and I didn't want to leave you alone but he said you needed space and you were gone for _hours_ —"

"I'm sorry." Hope murmured, wide-eyed in the face of her hurt. The cold was starting to wear off already, and it felt too warm under his coat, too warm inside at all house and it made his skin tingle and almost hurt.

Vanille looked like she was going to say something else for a second, but seemed to decide against it as she let out an explosive breath instead and stepped forward to envelope him into a tight hug.

"I was really worried." She told him quietly after several seconds, and he could barely dare to nod, much less reach to hug her back. "I'm sorry, too. You must have been so confused. I wanted to tell you, but Lightning said you wouldn't remember…"

There it was again, and Hope wondered just how Lightning would have _known_ that.

"I don't, not really," he admitted into her shoulder. "It's all… it's a blur. Like a dream. But there were things that just didn't feel right, and I didn't know why. Like — how are you and Fang here? After the fall, I thought… I thought you and Fang and Light were gone forever. That I'd never see you guys again."

Vanille tensed up for a moment, and Hope was starting to regret his question before she pulled back suddenly, holding him tightly in arms' length, both hands kneading into his shoulder as she gave him a serious look.

"I don't know how to explain it." She said. "We should wait for Lightning to come back. But then we'll tell you. We'll tell you everything we know, okay? It's just… it's hard. To say it out loud."

Hope held still and looked down at the floor beneath his boots, the which had clung onto the waterproof material starting to melt and drip onto the mat at the door, rivets of water running down the side of his boots. He thought for a moment on his wording.

"Serah said," he paused, and then swallowed down the lump in his throat, his fingers tensing and untensing. They were starting to hurt from the warmth in the room. "She said something about — about… _saving_ me."

The echo of rain and cold and pain made him shudder. _I died._

It was a strange thing to _know_.

The resounding silence was loud enough to pound against his ears. When he looked up again, there was an unreadable expression on Vanille's face, more closed off than he had ever seen her before.

"Okay." She said simply after a few tense moments of silence. "I'll find a way to explain. You deserve to know what's going on."

Her hands slipped from his shoulders down to clasp his fingers, and then she startled as if she had just realized it.

"Your hands are freezing!" She cupped both of his hands, bringing them up to blow at them. Her touch was scorching against his skin, but he didn't have the heart to protest. "Didn't you bring gloves with you? We need to get you warmed up, and quickly!"

Fang didn't wear gloves either, though. And mittens were a hassle when he need a steady grip in the midst of battle. However cold he might have felt at the beginning faded away quickly the longer he stayed out, the more Fang slowly started teaching him about the finer points of hunting prey: of setting traps and fighting and skinning animals and using the snow to preserve the meat.

They had continued long after the sun set, Fang declaring the light unnecessary especially in the colder months when daylight was already so scarce.

"Bath." Vanille decided for him with a determined nod. "You need a warm bath. That'll warm you up the quickest!"

She started pushing him toward the hall, and Hope panicked. "But wait, Fang's getting cleaned up, isn't she?"

Vanille laughed under her breath. "There's more than one bath, you know. Not that Fang isn't used to sharing."

"Not what I wanted to know!" Hope yelped at another shove.

Vanille only laughed at him.

.

.

Nearly an hour later, Lightning came home.

It was entirely unceremonious given that she gave in silently and no one even noticed she was back until they saw the trail of winter accessories leading to her room. Apparently she meant to sleep first thing before greeting everyone in the morning, but Vanille had been sitting with Hope in his room for the past half hour, the two of them finding more and more topics of light conversation to cover. Serah had retreated to her room after confirming that Fang and Hope were back, and was slowly continuing her wedding dress at a more subdued pace.

Fang had crashed on the couch after telling them to wake her up once Vanille was ready to head back.

Snow… well, Hope hadn't seen where Snow might have gone.

"I wouldn't know how to explain it." Vanille told him each time he asked her directly for an explanation. "Lightning would be able to tell the story better. She knows more, I think."

It was Serah who first greeted her sister quietly, sitting at Lightning's bedside to tell her that Hope was there, and moreover, that he _knew_.

And it was Vanille who held onto Hope's hand when Lightning marched to his room with Serah in tow, eyes hard as steel and expression unreadable and fierce.

"What tales did they tell you?" She demanded, arms crossed under her chest as she loomed in the doorway. She looked as fierce as she did during the Purge when she had been chasing after Serah into the Pulse Vestige, unafraid of whatever the world could throw at her.

The sheer _presence_ made Hope swallow heavily, slinking backward where he was sitting on the bed, ready to protest whatever his involvement might have been. _I didn't do it!_

Except he had. He had been the one to confront Serah because there was something wrong and she knew it just as he did.

"We didn't tell him any tales." Vanille protested next to him, breaking his chain of thought. "I said we should wait for you to come back, and he figured everything out all by himself. He _remembers_."

Lightning's steel blue eyes flickered to Vanille for a moment, her jaw tightening before she looked back to Hope, expecting an answer from him.

He swallowed thickly, and breathed in deep to gather his courage. "I dream about — things. Different things. It's like everyone else left and I'm the only one here and I don't know if my dreams are right or if I'm just dreaming right now." Because there were days when he wasn't sure if the others were real. Didn't know why he felt so utterly alone even when Vanille's chipper voice spoke to him over the phone.

Serah said they just wanted to save him. He _had_ to know. Clenching his hands tightly, one entwined with Vanille's and the other grasping a handful of the blankets, he blurted, "I need to know. Was it real?"

"Dreams are just dreams, Hope." Lightning's voice was tight. "This is real. Right now. You need to learn to ignore the dreams."

"Alyssa is real!" He didn't even care that he was shouting now, because Hope wanted to have a civil conversation, wanted to just ask Lightning a real question and get a real answer but no one was telling him anything and he had been waiting hours and hours while Serah and Vanille remained tight-lipped. "She's real, and Noel is real too — I'm not just going to forget them and say that — that they're nothing but _dreams_ when they're not!"

He didn't give her a chance to respond, instead shaking off Vanille's hand in his frustration. "What are you guys hiding from me? I'm not a _kid_, I don't need to be protected—"

"_Don't._" Lightning's tone was razor sharp, cutting through even Hope's shouting.

"Hope, you can't say that." Vanille was pale. "Of course we're going to protect you. You're really important to us, okay?"

But none of it was them _telling_ him anything important. He might have been alright with them hiding things from him, but not when it was about him in the first place. The room felt too small as he seethed, unable to shake off the anger he wanted to work through just earlier that day. He shouldn't have come back. He should have stayed out with Fang and built a fire in the night. He should have gone straight to sleep after his bath and pushed it all off until the next day. Maybe it wouldn't have felt as sharp and painful as it did right now.

He just couldn't untense his shoulders, couldn't bring himself to think about things rationally at that moment.

"You _do_ need to be protected." And this time, it was Serah who spoke up, her voice clear and strong. She stood up taller from where she had been hiding behind her sister before. Lightning turned to give her a sharp look, but it didn't deter her. "Not just because we all care about you. Not just because you nearly died recently."

"_Serah._"

"He deserves to know, doesn't him?" Serah protested, and then turned her eyes toward Hope. She looked remarkably like her sister at that moment, strong and defiant. "We didn't mean to never tell you. We just wanted you to get better first."

Vanille nodded hesitantly in agreement besides him.

"The day of the earthquake," Serah said. "We all came back. All of us, all from different places. It wasn't just an earthquake that day. That was the last of the time gates closing. And we — all of us: even Fang and Snow and Sazh — we all came from different futures. All of them different, but with just a few things in common."

She paused, darting her eyes over to gauge her sister's reaction. Lightning, however, did not look inclined to stop her younger sister's words, even though she looked furious.

"In every timeline we came from, you were dead. And the future was in shambles."

_Rain. Cold. Pain. Darkness._

Hope's throat felt painfully dry suddenly.

"Where I came from, there was a tower." And here, Serah's voice dropped from the strong tone to something a lot more lost. "You built it, do you know? At least ten years in the future, you started a project that… well, you wanted to save all of humanity. You built a tower to support an artificial intelligence that would solve all of humanity's problems. Except there was a problem and your creations turned on you — they ambushed you. I saw the footage and…" she trailed off, looking down even as she brought a hand to her heart. "Noel and I tried to at the very least avenge you. Because you died there, four hundred years in the future everyone was ruled by a fal'Cie that was turning people Cie'th left and right."

Hope inhaled sharply. What? No, that wasn't what he remembered. He didn't know anything about that! How could that be possible? How could she know what it would look like in four hundred years? Those time gates she spoke of…

"We didn't want to tell you because… how do you tell someone that he's died? And not once, but from every timeline we could recall?"

"Snow and Sazh have their own stories as well." Serah admitted. "But… I won't tell their side for them. I can't. You have to ask them about it if you really want to know. I don't think either of them want to think about what they saw."

No, that wasn't right. None of it felt right.

"Fang and I were in crystal stasis the entire time." Vanille spoke quietly from beside him. "When we woke up, the world was — it was just darkness. The skies were black and there was nothing living. Not animals, not plants. There was nothing left. Nothing at all. All I wanted… I just wanted to see you guys again. I wanted to be with everyone again."

Lightning stayed silent.

"And when we came back—" Vanille shook her head, her curls catching on the beads of her necklaces. "It was chaos. But it was beautiful somehow because there were people and color again, except I saw you fall and I thought I came at the last moment. I thought I'd got my wish granted, except I would come back just to watch you die. You — I don't ever want to see that, okay, Hope? You gotta promise me I won't ever have to see you die."

"Vanille." He still couldn't reconcile the future Serah described, but the raw pain in Vanille's voice forced him out of his thoughts, his instinctive reaction to reach out for her. "I'm…"

"Don't. Don't say you're sorry. I caught you from that fall, but I thought you were going to die anyway. If you want to make it up to me for having to go through all of that, then you've got to stay okay from now. And not complain just because we're trying to protect you. I almost saw you die, but everyone else all watched you die, you know? Let us be protective, okay? You're really important to us. And to the whole world. You can't even argue with me on that because every future without you has been terrible.

"Now you know. You're not going crazy. But things will be different now. We're all here in this together now."

Vanille tried to insert some cheer into her words, but Hope could feel the burn of Lightning's gaze on him, seeking something he didn't know the answer to.

He didn't dare look at her now, didn't dare ask exactly what she had seen. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that they had all come from _different futures_. Futures where he hadn't made it out alive and that somehow affected the outcome for others.

But what had Lightning seen? What made her so sure that he wouldn't remember?

He couldn't ask. Maybe he was too scared.

"I guess…" Vanille continued, sounding cautious. "I guess we wanted to protect you from that, too. We're here now. We're going to take care of things, so you shouldn't worry yourself about all those futures. You just need to stay alive, and then all those terrible things won't happen."

Somehow, it felt like there was more to it.

What was so important about him? They must have had it wrong. Maybe it was just a coincidence. There could be incidents where he and a great number of other people died, and that might affect things. It wouldn't just be him, though.

"Is that what you remember?" Lightning asked him, and he flinched back at the harshness of her words. She sounded so different from all those time she called him to check on what he was doing. She sounded fond and amused during those calls, content and relaxed. Here, she was… "Did your dreams include what Serah said? What Vanille said?"

He couldn't lie. He just couldn't, not when the others were being so honest.

He turned his eyes to meet Lightning's gaze, trying to stay steady. She deserved that. Vanille and Serah deserved every ounce of strength he could find right now.

"No."

.

.

_The rain was glistening on the walkways, was causing a rainbow effect on the windows of the buildings surrounding him and it should have been beautiful, should have been mesmerizing and maybe he should have taken the time to admire the effect, except he was running and running and he could barely breathe because he couldn't stop._

_Everything had gone wrong wrong wrong and now he was at this dead end. Snow had said he was going to die, except that the end could be circumvented and oh but Hope had thought he managed to change things. He was supposed to have the upper hand, was supposed to have seen this coming._

_His hand was warm. Warm and aching, grasped too tightly be someone else. Someone was dragging him along when his feet faltered under him, and he wasn't sure who it was._

_There was shouting behind them and sharp explosive sounds that made his ears ring, echoing with his footfalls in the rainy path, splashing the water up against his pant legs._

_He was running, and running, and then there was an invisible force like a silent explosion, the shockwave pushing him off balance right over a railing._

_He fell._

Hope jerked awake with a start, shoving himself up from bed with a gasp and pushing at the blankets constricting his limbs. Tied up — he was tied up! He was tied up and trapped and —

As reality slowly set in, he took the deepest breath he could and held it even as his lungs burned from how much air it was storing. He raised shaking hands to his head, brushing away damp bangs as he took stock of his surroundings all the while holding his breath.

Unfamiliar room, but he knew where this was. Unfamiliar sheets and unfamiliar blanket, but at the same time.

I'm in New Bodhum, his brain told him tiredly.

He was in New Bodhum, where Serah and Vanille revealed to him the mystery of how they came to be there; of how he died in numerous timelines. Except Lightning hadn't revealed anything on their part, and their answers only brought about more questions for him.

Like his recurring dream.

_I died._

They had told him that, of course. But the reality of it was different. The _dreams_ were different. He could feel everything in the dreams, could feel his pulse slow and his body growing cold. Could feel the panic and cold oblivion imminent on the horizon.

But the cityscape was unfamiliar. The method wasn't one described by Vanille or Serah. It was something he should _know_, except he didn't have a clue what was going on. He hadn't gotten the answers he wanted, but instead was only beginning to understand that everything he knew, everything he could contribute, was nothing more than another piece to the puzzle.

Hope let out the breath slowly, and pulled his legs up underneath the blankets to press his forehead against his knees.

_Come find me._

Yes. He believed. Alyssa and Noel existed, and furthermore, so did many many people he must have met before. Just because he was fourteen again, just because everyone else was back and safe and sound, didn't negate their existence. All the names and faces he must have forgotten, all those people were real.

_Come find me._

_Come find me._

.

.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

This is actually only the amount of two days' worth of writing, oops! But I was super busy this weekend so I'd get two hours free a day if I was very, very lucky. So I'm cheating a little, I'm sorry. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday has followed in the busy schedule so far so I'm going to just take Sunday off and hopefully return fully to writing this come the new week. It's already starting to go a little beyond my planning, though, so it may take me a little longer to write transition scenes for the vague notes I have from here on out. So you guys get this a little early right now.


	4. Days9-12

Days 9-12

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.

.

The wedding preparations continued despite still not knowing that actual date. Soon enough, however, what needed to be done in case Serah wanted to get married _that very day_ started to die down a little, giving Hope more space to breathe… and sadly, more time to think about things.

Lightning's demeanor that night had softened just slightly after Hope admitted he didn't remember what the others were talking about, and she convinced him not to spend his time looking into it.

"I'll find out what happened." She assured him. "You need to focus on those tests of yours, just as Snow and Serah need to focus on their wedding."

It was short and succinct, but felt somehow lackluster. There were a few more comments exchanged, each of those a reiteration of how Hope shouldn't get involved; should stay safe and they would take care of everything.

They left him with a computer and his books laid out on the desk in his room, Lightning supervising for a while before she was called away for something else. The books had been the stipulation Bartholomew wheedled in exchange for the Bodhum trip: study hard and be prepared for the exams. But Hope could barely pay attention to the words on the page, his attention split between what he should be learning and the situation at hand. Once in a while, he'd also be distracted by others shouting outside his room, moving things around for the impending wedding. The books were simple enough anyway. Review. It didn't take Hope long to cover most of his topic, wandering from his room once in a while to ask if anyone needed help. The answer was always no.

"You just keep hitting those books!" Vanille told him cheerfully, smacking one fist into her other hand dramatically, as if re-enacting a battle. "Until the books start hitting back, yeah?"

The statement was accompanied by a giggle as she herded him back again. It was better than before when Hope had admitted he remembered nothing of what they described to him. Both she and Serah had been unbearably awkward with what they revealed, but somehow relieved as well.

Their redirection of all conversation was so painfully obvious that within a day Hope had taken to sneaking from his room and attempting to avoid them without it looking like he was avoiding them.

Which, of course, was much harder than the initial plan.

"What's up, little man?" Snow asked as Hope was trying to sneak food from the kitchen for a midnight snack. Hope startled, feeling his heartbeat spike even as he recognized Snow's voice. He whirled and brought a finger up to his lips, shushing the older man perhaps much louder than he should have.

Snow, for the most part, backed up a step and raised his hands in surrender, lips twisted up in amusement. "Alright, alright. Shh. Got it. We're hunting monsters."

Hope deflated from his tense pose, dropping his arm. "...No. Just getting food."

"Because _that_ needs so much discretion when Lebreau's been trying to stuff enough food into you to make you explode this past week."

"I'm not hiding from Lebreau." Hope countered, before wincing.

"Ah-ha." Snow stepped forward a dropped a heavy arm around Hope's shoulders, ignoring the boy's squeak. "But you're hiding from someone else, right? Nice try, kiddo. Is it Vanille? Or is it Sis? I'm surprised you guys aren't spending more time together, actually. Thought you'd be glued to her side. C'mon, what is it? Can't say nothing now that I've caught you sneaking around the house."

"I'm not _sneaking._"

Snow brought a finger to his lips in a rendition of the pose Hope had taken just moments before, although with a grin instead and a raised eyebrow to prove his point.

Hope refused to relent. "Besides, you said it: Lebreau's been trying to feed me more, anyway. Me getting food isn't a crime."

"Sure it isn't." Snow agreed pleasantly, maneuvering him into the kitchen from the hallway where Snow had snuck up on him. It was cool and dark, much more spacious with the linger lights over the stove telling the time. The room was sparkling clean, likely from Lebreau's obsessive tendency of blowing up at anyone who made a mess in her kitchen. "I think I'll get something to eat, too."

Hope made a face. So much for his simple in and out plan so he wouldn't have to speak to anyone. "You'll get fat before your wedding and Serah won't want to marry you anymore."

"_Ouch!_ Geez, Hope, you really don't pull the punches, do you?"

Hope didn't answer that, instead fuming quietly at his failed plan.

"Besides," Snow continued as the wandered over the fridge, pulling it open so that the light illuminated his figure. It was only then that Hope realized the man was wearing a white bathrobe and fuzzy slippers with a worn stitched face smiling up, and that his blond hair was in a complete disarray, sticking up from every which direction now that it wasn't held back with his usual bandana. The man hummed in consideration for a moment before pulling out a container. "I've been meaning to talk with you for a while."

"Oh, no," Hope groaned, although his tone was flat. "This can't be good."

Snow tossed him a packet from the fridge, forcing Hope to reach up and catch it before it could hit him in the face. It was a small container with chilled leftovers from dinner, the packaging bright and colorful in a style he wouldn't have reconciled with Lebreau before this trip.

"So what's going on with you?" Snow asked again, taking his own package and settling down on one of the stools by the kitchen island. He patted the stool next to him. "It isn't anything to do with the wedding, is it? Because, you know, I know it's taking up everyone's time but they all still care for you—"

"Oh. _No._" Hope made a disgruntled expression, his nose scrunching up even as he slinked over to the stool somewhat warily. He doubted he'd be able to escape whatever conversation Snow wanted to have even if he left the kitchen now. With his luck, the older man would take his leaving as an invitation to take the conversation to his room, where Hope wouldn't be able to escape at all. At least here, he had the tactical advantage of leaving if he really needed to and running to his room before locking Snow out. "That's dumb. I don't need _attention_. I'm not a pet."

"No, you're a kid." Snow reached to tousle his hair. "I heard those need even more attention than pets."

"Haha." Hope reached to push his hand off. "Funny."

"I'm working on it." Snow quipped with a short laugh. "I'll keep going if you don't tell me why you're avoiding people. Is it the girls? Is Vanille putting ribbons in your hair? Serah using you as a mannequin for everything she's making?"

"Why does everyone think Vanille is going to put ribbons in my hair?" Hope asked, bewildered. "Should I be worried? Is she going to do that?"

"Nah." Snow told him, opening his container. The scent of tomato sauce slipped out even as the man stabbed a fork into the pasta and twirled it. "If she hasn't done it yet, you should be safe. Maybe. I'd keep an eye out for her either way. No, I take that back: be afraid. Be very afraid."

The blond gave him a wide grin before starting on his food. Hope just picked at his own package in response, suddenly not sure if he wanted to eat at the moment. He wasn't all that hungry, but food helped him concentrate sometimes and he had a feeling that he should eat every time he actually remembered about food.

(It was strange, like he gained the habit of not eating until he remembered about it. Except that wasn't right, because he ate regular meals.)

"So," Snow said around a mouthful of food. "What is it? If it's not the wedding preparations getting to you, what's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong." Hope denied, and then sighed as Snow gave him a dubious look. He gave up at picking at the package of leftovers and brought his elbows up on the kitchen island, using both hands to prop up his chin as he frowned. "Fine. I just don't know what to say to them lately, I guess. There's nothing wrong."

"Them?" Snow jabbed the fork in his direction. "C'mon, specify."

Hope shrugged. "Them? Like… Light and Vanille and Serah. I guess."

Everyone else was too busy to really worry about talking to him. Sazh was gone more than half the time, spending more time with Dajh but also bringing the little boy to help out once in a while. Snow, being one of the main leads in the event, was kept busy through the day. Fang… well.

Honestly, Fang was a breath of fresh air every time she visited, usually on the way in from hunts and waiting for Vanille to finish with whatever she was doing to help Serah with the wedding. She tended to give a few sardonic remarks about his books not being practical for life on Gran Pulse, and then ask him questions about what he wanted to be when he grew up which he usually answered with the more obscure of responses that made her crack up laughing.

"Ahh." Snow gave a knowing nod before eating another mouthful of pasta, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before continuing, "Now I get it."

Hope glared down at his food package. It figured that Snow would know about that conversation. Everyone knew about everything except for him. Snow was in on it too, even if it wasn't his fault. They must have all agreed not to tell him, and then all agreed to further keep it from him even after he got better. And on top of that, now everyone knew about that confrontation.

"Girl problems." Snow summarized with a sagely nod. "Ahh, don't worry about it, Hope. We've all been there. It's just a time in your life when you start noticing to feminine wiles, when your own body starts changing on you in ways you never imagined it could change, and —"

Hope's horror grew with each word until he finally clapped both hands over his ears. "No way, nuh-uh! Lalalalala… I don't need to listen to this!"

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about!" Snow quipped, his voice raised to compensate for Hope's attempt to squash his own hearing. "I might not be the best person to tell you about this, but it's not something that should be ignored. Well! Okay, guess it's up to me to start this conversation. Hope—"

Hope slipped off the stool, both hands still pressed tightly against his ears, but Snow snagged the back of his jacket

"Girls can be confusing." The blond continued to say, as if Hope hadn't been trying to escape. "And suddenly talking to them is a completely different experience. That's okay, though, because—"

Taking just a moment to uncover his ears, Hope slipped deftly out of his jacket and raced out of the kitchen, leaving Snow holding on to the yellow jacket.

.

.

Due to convenience, Serah finally decided on the wedding to be held the day Hope would have to leave so that Bartholomew could attend as well just by coming by and picking up his son. The ceremony would start in the morning and the party would continue until sundown when Hope would finally have to leave for home.

All too soon, or not soon enough as Hope worked twice as hard to avoid not just Lightning, Serah, and Vanille, but Snow as well (luckily, both Yuj and Maqui were quite sympathetic to his plight and would hide him when Snow was heading his direction), his last day in New Bodhum came around.

He woke up that morning before the sun came up, grasping groggily for the light by his bed as the knocking on his door grew louder.

"Up and at them, Hope!" Lebreau's voice was slightly muffled by the wooden barrier. "Time to wake up! Wedding's in three hours, and we've got lots to do!"

"Yeah, up and at 'em!" Snow's voice echoed behind Lebreau, sounding criminally awake and amused. "Can't start this wedding without the flowerboy, you know?"

In response, Hope threw his pillow at the door with all his sleepy might, the slightly thump only increasing the amount of laughter beyond the door.

"Don't be mean." He could hear Lebreau berate the man beyond the door, although she sounded just as amused. "You know we didn't prepare a dress in his size. You can't promise him a position like that if we're not prepared for it."

The snort of laughter slowly faded away as the pair made their way further down the hall, continuing their early morning banter.

Hope collapsed back onto his bed, and then groaned in disapproval as his head went down further than he expected, the support of his pillow now gone. He stayed there for nearly a minute before he rolled over, feeling irritated from being awake that early. Still, he was more awake now and there really was too much to do before Snow and Serah's wedding.

His alarm wasn't set to go off for another fifteen minutes, but he turned it off anyway. He was already awake anyway. There was an outfit hanging on the back of his door, slightly disturbed by the pillow he had thrown earlier. It was another recent purchase, more coat than suit for formal occasion, seeing as the ceremony would take place outside in the ice and snow. Hope had refused the idea of an all black ensemble, instead choosing a dark grey color for formality. He wasn't actually going to be a part of the ceremony, after all, and therefore wasn't exactly subject to Vanille's wild ideas on what he should wear.

But that didn't mean he could get out of helping with the set-up.

With one finally groan of complaint, Hope pushed himself up from the bed and stretched his arms high over his head, shifting left to right.

It was ten minutes later when he answered positively to another knock on his door and Vanille peeked her head in, hair curled on the top of her hair and beaded with a few strands dangling from above her ears artfully. She blinked at the brightness of the room and then smiled widely as she saw Hope in his grey suit, tying a jacket around his waist to carry it with him when he eventually stepped outside.

"Good morning," She greeted, and opened the door further to step in, a bounce in her step. She twirled in a circle in front of him, arms spread wide just as she had done when he arrived in New Bodhum nearly a week ago. "So? What do you think?"

Her dress was a light pink accented with a multitude of colors from the beading sewn into every inch of the dress. She was wearing a thick white undershirt that covered her wrists and white tights tucked into her normal boots.

"It looks great." Hope complimented sincerely. He pulled at his own collar self-consciously, feeling somewhat silly now next to her. He had chosen a suit with tie and a pink flower tucked into the front pocket of his jacket, matching the flowers that all the guys were wearing. His father had sent him a dark green tie that was still too long for him, but that was easily remedied. In contrast, Vanile looked bright and bubbly along with formal, while he looked somber and far too serious.

Vanille reached out stop his fidgeting, her smile growing fond. "Thanks. You look great too, you know. Too grown up, though. We should fix that."

She reached up and messed up his hair with both hands, giggling as he tried to escape her with little success.

"There." She said cheerfully after a few seconds of him trying to bat her away. She tugged on the strand of hair that usually tended to wisp up rather than obey gravity with the rest of his hair. "All better. Now you look more like yourself."

He made a protesting noise, although not very strongly, even as he raised his hands to pat down his hair again. He didn't actually mind having his hair in a mess that much if it cheered Vanille up. They hadn't really spoken in the past several days, both too busy to exchange more than greetings and also, in Hope's opinion, still too awkward with each other.

(It didn't help that Snow's attempted _conversation_ made it so that Hope would sputter each time he tried to speak to Vanille.)

Vanille's smile wavered soon as her hands settled on his shoulders. "Hope… I know I didn't tell you…"

"It's okay." Hope interjected, because he had a few days to digest the information now. It wasn't as sharp anymore, and he didn't like seeing Vanille upset. "Some lies are necessary, right? You always mean well. Intentions need to taken into consideration, too."

He reached for a hand on his shoulder and linked his pinky with hers.

"It's fine."

.

.

It was snowing again, the entire beach and mountainside covered in a quiet layer of white, washing away all sense of color and time into a perfect scenery. No blemishes on the land, no darkness. Even the sky was so light that it hurt to look up directly despite there being no sign of the sun anywhere. The clouds radiated white, which seemed to concentrate down on Serah as she walked down the path outlined by flowers.

She was radiant, glowing and happy as she walked arm in arm with Lightning, who was wearing a pale pink dress with slits up to nearly her hips and thick leggings underneath, all of which only seemed to reflect the white Serah had wrapped herself in, her white wedding gown intricate with beading and leather knots, all bleached to match the snow around them. She wore layers upon layers of veils which almost hid the fact that her arms and back were almost entirely bare even in the cold weather, although her dress must have been at least a dozen layers, all of them slightly revealed with each step she took.

Hope sat next to his father in the front row on the bride's side, where Lightning had instructed him to sit despite Snow protesting for a few seconds before she turned her glare on him.

He smiled as several of Serah's students, dressed to the nines, walked in front of the duo and threw flower petals about the path enthusiastically. Hope glanced to the front briefly to see Snow looking… well, he had never seen such an expression before. He glanced away quickly, feeling oddly like an intruder to the scene.

Lieutenant Amodar had apparently taken the journey to officiate the ceremony for the happy couple, and Hope could feel a chill that had nothing to do with the air as the bride and groom met up at the front, surrounded by various decorations which had taken almost an entirely week to prepare. Lightning stepped to the side as she escorted Serah to her new husband's side, and Hope could only briefly wonder at what she was feeling before he was hit by another wave of vertigo.

_This never happened._

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly, hoping that no one would notice his distress even as his throat tightened up and his lungs tried to expel all the air it could. He couldn't draw attention to himself, not in this moment.

It was a strange and nauseating feeling, and he didn't like it at all. The sense of oddness was the same as when he first left the hospital, when he got into the hovercar with Snow and Lightning and Vanille… except exponentially worse, greying the edge of his vision as he opened his eyes again.

_No one this ever happened._

It felt unreal. Like a dream. Worse than a dream, because dreams didn't _feel_ like dreams. Hope could see their mouths moving, saying their vows, but his ears were ringing and while he wasn't in pain, he felt like he was going to be sick.

There was a dull roar around him, and Hope blinked the spots out of his vision as everyone stood up, clapping. He stood with them, uneasy on his feet but also moving his hands to celebrate, finally noticing the kissing couple at the alter.

Slowly, very slowly, the sound started to filter back into his ears, and he could make out the whistling and cat-calls in the din and racket of clapping and happy congratulations. Serah was beaming, her smile brighter than anything he had seen, laughing as Snow picked her up and spun her in a circle.

_I missed it,_ he thought dully even as he smiled and clapped. _All this preparation and I missed the entire thing._

There was no way he could ignore the situation like the others asked him to. Not if this was going to happen. He _had_ to get to the bottom of this — if he didn't… Hope had a feeling that the feeling, the strange moments, would only get worse.

Drawing in a sharp breath after the constriction in his chest passed, Hope only smiled wider and clapped louder as Lightning's eyes passed over him.

.

.

.

"You should do just fine." His father reassured him as the two of them crossed the threshold to the building currently designated as the communal high school, coming in from the cold outside. It still hadn't snowed in the settlement despite the amount that had built up in New Bodhum. Somehow, Hope already missed the white landscape.

"I know." Hope responded, the third time since they stepped out of the apartment that morning. He wasn't altogether too worried about the exams since he had scanned through all the textbooks easily during his trip. Bartholomew, however, seemed to need some convincing.

"After this, they'll get you set up in classes. It might be hard to catch up at first, but you're smart. Everything will work out."

"Okay." Hope agreed amiably. He hooked his gloved fingers through his backpack straps, walking slightly behind his father down the unfamiliar but brightly lit halls. The entire place looked too sterile, like the hospital corridor. He would rather not have to attend school at all (couldn't he just browse through the textbooks like he had done the past week?), but at the moment it seemed like it would make his dad happy just for him to pass the exam and get into high school.

The administrators behind the long desk in the hallway (and again, Hope was getting uncomfortable similarities to the hospital) didn't so much as glance up at them as his father confirmed their appointment with the school examiners. The man behind the desk pulled up a holographic map with directions to the exam room, and then flicked it away as Bartholomew glanced at it for references and then thanked the man.

The room in question at the end of their destination was fairly austere, although Hope felt a spike of anxiety was he walked through the doorway behind his father and glanced at the trio of examiners seated at the wall, a desk between them and the rest of the classroom — and this was a classroom, with five desk facing the examiners all interspaced so that the students wouldn't be able to touch each other with extended arms.

The desks provided, however, were top quality. Hope had seen some of those testing desks before when he toured the high school campus he was to have attended in Palumpolem. He had pointed them out to his mother, who laughed at how different they looked from when she was in high school. They were sleek and dark, edges smoothed out to prevent injuries and with a holographic interface built into the desk surface, flat to reduce the amount that students other than the one seated right before the desk would be able to see.

"Mr. Estheim?" The woman seated in the middle between two male examiners greeted them with a smile, her voice pleasant. "And this must be Hope. Excellent. You're right on time."

There was something about her smile (too wide, too bright) that unnerved Hope, and he looked up at his father.

Bartholomew, however, didn't seem to notice as he laid a hand on his son's shoulder in reassurance and repeated, "You'll do just fine."

"The testing will end in four hours." The woman said as Bartholomew looked up toward her. "That is if we start promptly. The results would be delivered before the end of the day."

He nodded, and then looked back to Hope. "I'll be here to pick you up after the testing."

"Yeah." Hope agreed, nodding. It was rare for Bartholomew to be able to take this much time off work, and Hope was fairly certain the world would soon end (again) if his father missed any more work. Somehow, all the stars in the sky would align and explode or something. It was just prudent to reassure his dad and get these tests over with, with as little stress as possible.

"Please, take a seat." The woman said, and Hope chose a desk to the left after his father left the room, setting his backpack down nervously. The other two examiners remained silent, their expressions unreadable. "We will start with the math segment of the test. You have forty minutes to complete the section once you start."

The desk underneath his fingers lit with a touch as Hope settled in, showing a countdown.

"Ready? And begin."

.

.

It was a good thing he reviewed through the textbooks, as the math questions spanned far past just the first few chapters and beyond even the end of the textbook. Algebra, geometry, trigonometry, calculus…

Hope paused in thought a little after thirty minutes into the testing period, feeling suspicions. While the questions weren't impossible to solve, they did take some thought and concentration, seeing as he hadn't reviewed most of the concepts. He paused five minutes before the end of the segment, however, staring down on his desk incredulously at the three dimensional diagram of vector space and subspaces. It was the only question he could see left, although there hadn't been a definite number of questions from the beginning. Each just got progressively harder.

_This is insane,_ he thought to himself even as he started to map out whether the map was an isomorphism, using every resource allowed to him for the exam. _This is linear algebra. I had way too much trouble with this._

I shouldn't know this. I shouldn't be able to solve this.

When the timer buzzed at the end of the testing segment, Hope let out a long breath and tried to calm his pounding heart, before looking up to meet the deep grey eyes of the woman examiner. She was smiling, but it was the same smile as before — too wide, framed by lips that were too red.

"Excellent." She said. "The next segment is an essay question that will span the next twenty-five minutes. Are you ready? Testing will commence in thirty seconds."

Hope's mind blanked for moment. Shouldn't he be allowed a few minutes reprieve at least? But the holographic interface on his desk was flashing a countdown again, and he could barely manage to glance up once more to take in her too wide smile and the two other examiners besides her (both of them so stoic, Hope couldn't so much as make out if they felt bothered by sitting there for all this time without getting up,) before he had to focus his concentration on the table in front of him.

As the essay question revealed itself to be an analytical summation of causes and events during the War of Transgression through a series of historical passages, Hope spared a thought for Fang and Vanille.

Then he knew exactly what to write.

He was done with his essay long before the twenty-five minutes were up, and asked his examiners if he could get up to get some water. This time, it wasn't the woman who responded, but the man sitting on her right who gave him a nod and said quietly that he needed to be back before the next portion.

The next section was separated into three: biology, chemistry, and physics. Hope couldn't even figure out where his answers came from, except that he was fairly sure none of those questions had been covered in the textbooks he had reviewed the past week. Some of the material was distant from his mind, which made the multiple choice sections quite a relief.

He glanced up once in a while when he had the time to see his examiners frowning at the screens before them. As he finished each section with time left to spare, he continued to get more test sections with little to no breaks in-between until he was tapping his stylus impatiently on his desk while waiting for countdowns to start. There was something inherent bothersome about the test that Hope couldn't quite put a finger on.

Except he could. One the very first questions in the test were covered by his textbooks.

He was still answering questions when Bartholomew came back, concerned due to being nearly half an hour late. It was then and only then that the examiners ended his testing as he finished the last question before his timer went off again.

The woman exchanged pleasantries with his father and promised the results before the end of the day.

"How was it?" His father asked him as they left the facility, the administrator in the hall now a different person who, like the previous man, did not so much as raise their head when the two of them walked past.

Hope thought about pointing out how most of the questions hadn't been covered in his review books, but then thought better of it as he glanced up at his dad's smiling face. The protests and complaints died off in his mind at that fond smile, much rarer now after the Purge.

"It was okay." He said instead, swallowing the oddities he had observed the past several hours. "It was just really long."

"Yes." Bartholomew agreed. "Why don't we get some food to celebrate? You won't have to do that again for a while."

Hope agreed readily, threading his fingers around his backpack straps in attempts to concentrate on something other than the questions he answered.

.

.

Six hours later, Hope sat in the hallway of his temporary home outside the door to his father's room, not bothering to turn on the lights as he listened to his father speak softly inside the room, his tone a low simmering rage. He had spent the past six hours with his father, Bartholomew Estheim taking the rest of the day to indulge his son's hobbies. Hope had done his best to find more things he might have in common with his father with limited success. At the very least, he thought, they both tried.

He already knew this was coming, though.

"You can't just tell me my son failed the exam." His father hissed beyond the door, accompanied by the sounds of heavy pacing. "Do you really expect me to believe that? Do you take me for an idiot? Hope is _brilliant_, smarter than half the students in your school already!"

There was a pause, presumably the people over the phone attempting to calm Bartholomew down.

"Well, I demand to see a copy of his test. No — you can _not_ keep me from them. Unless he deliberately refused to answer your questions, there is no way you can convince me he failed. No. No, _you_ listen. This is my son, and I will have your entire establishment investigated and brought down for discrimination and counterfeiting student examination results if you do not convince me that you're not lying to me. And the only way you can do that is if you release his test results to me."

There was a heavier footstep than normal.

"How is it illegal for parents to—? No, I won't argue this with you. If not me, then release to it a government official for an unbiased evaluation. I will say this for you: I hope you've brushed up on your legalities because I will _bring you down_ for this."

Hope got to his feet quietly as he heard his father drop onto bed with a heavy sigh. He lingered at the door for just a few moments more, uncertain of himself, before mouthing a silent 'sorry' to the door. He wondered if what he just heard was similar to the conversation Bartholomew must have had after Hope left the hospital.

But he had known already. The moment he had seen the woman examiner's wide, wide smile, Hope had already known he would never go to school there.

.

.

A knocking in the middle of the night woke Hope up, and he listened carefully as his father greeted the person at the door (Rygdea, his hearing told him) and invited him inside. Hope got up from bed, pulling his blankets with him, as he slipped to the other side of his small room and laid down right in front of the door, trying to hear better through the gap there and see the vague lights and shadows from the living area. Had this been his home back in Palumpolum, Hope could never have attempted this form of eavesdropping, but the apartment was small and built only as a temporary structure without the sliding steel doors he was accustomed to.

"Good news and bad news." Rygdea was saying.

"Just tell me you have something on that charlatan parading itself as a school for children." Bartholomew responded, sounding tired. "Tell me my son didn't deliberately fail his examination."

"Ahh. Yes." Rygdea cleared his throat, and there were a few moments of silence interspaced before he continued. "That's part of the bad news, I suppose. Good news: you were right about them messing with his tests. Bad news: they were right about Hope not belonging in their school."

"What is this?" Bartholomew asked.

"His test results." And here, Rygdea's voice grew serious. "Which brings me to more good news and bad news."

"How does this prove he doesn't belong there?" His father sounded indignant. "His scores are—"

"Exceptional? Yeah, that's the thing." There was a momentary pause. "That's not the examination they give students entering high school. Hell, I'll bet half my salary that the people who gave him that test wouldn't be able to answer as many questions as he did. This is a post-secondary exam, Bart. And not your typical standardized tests, either. This is a progressive test, which, okay, to be fair, it's actually the kind of test they're supposed to give him. Progressive tests keep giving questions that get harder and harder in order to assess what level the person's already at. You've taken it, yeah?"

His father didn't respond.

"And here: his analytical essay. Ha! Had a former uni professor of mine take a look at this. I can see why they failed him in this section, especially if they're high school teachers. Your son basically bypassed the entire question so technically he didn't answer this portion of the exam at all. But my ex-prof, he loved it. As an analytical essay written on a time limit, it's quite brilliant. Of course, I doubt whoever made this test expected anyone to write the whole essay criticizing the lack of evidence provided by each passage rather than use the passages _as_ evidence." Rygdea snorted. "Hope's got some good persuasion skills here. I haven't done any further research on this topic, but I'm already ready to see things from his point of view."

There was the creak of the couch, possibly the soldier sitting forward.

"Good news, bad news… bad news is that we can't get them for refusing to admit a student on discrimination. They were right: Hope doesn't belong there. We can't get them for fraud, either, since they could claim that the test was given as a mistake. They've got their bases covered there. Good news, most post-secondaries would take him based on this test. I sent this to various institutions — got some connections there, and even Eden U. claimed they would take this student."

He paused. "...Bad news, they took that back when they found out who the student was."

Hope winced. While he had been boggling over his own test results (had the questions really been that hard? He expected it beyond high school entry level, but…), he hadn't thought it would actually impress professors. Either way, of course Eden University (which had moved their campus after the capital crashed) wouldn't taken an ex-l'Cie. He wondered if that was what happened to Serah. Lightning had once told him about her sister's acceptance into the school, yet Serah was now in New Bodhum living as a teacher rather than continuing her education.

"Good news," Rygdea continued when it seemed clear Bartholomew wasn't going to respond. "Well, you're right. Hope's brilliant. He doesn't seem to have a single weak subject, although I wouldn't stop here. Progressive tests aren't supposed to have a time limit. You're supposed to keep answering questions until you can't anymore, and… I gotta agree with that school. They're just not good enough for him. There's nothing they can teach him."

"It doesn't make sense," his father murmured.

"You're telling me." Rygdea responded evenly. "Who knew the squirt had it in him? At least you can put aside all concerns about the accident leaving any kind of lasting brain damage. I'd say if he's not at a hundred percent, his mind's still working better than most people I know."

"It's not that." Bartholomew objected. "Hope learns fast. Faster than most children his age, yes, and he's extremely bright… But where did he learn all this in the first place?"

There was silence, and then Rygdea burst out laughing. "Seriously, that's where you're going with this? Your son's a smart kid with nothing to do the past month. He probably just ended up studying because he was bored! It's not like there's much else he can do, right? And his friends are all grown up. Heck, if I were a kid with no one but grown ups for friends, I'd probably study harder too to keep up with conversation."

"... , that must be it." His father breathed out a deep breath. "I had hoped that school would introduce him to more children his age. Would play-dates still be acceptable for teenagers?"

"Oh, definitely not. He's at the age where play-dates just turn into plain dates. I'd be careful there."

The conversation smoothed out there, but Hope had stopped listening in already. He pulled his blankets tighter around him, giving no thought into returning to bed.

His dad was right. He didn't recall ever learning those subjects.

Maybe he learned in the future. He grit his teeth, rolling away from the door to stare up at his ceiling. Did that mean he really was starting to remember?

.

.

.

He waited until he was sure that his father was busy at work the next day before he left a message on Bartholomew's phone. According to his father, he had an important meeting that day which should span several hours and that meant he'd have his phone turned off. Knowing that, Hope left several messages interspaced by a few minutes and called several times as well before leaving a final message that said everything was fine, he just wanted to ask if he could go out for the day but he'd be back that night.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right? With that in mind, Hope tucked a knit hat over his distinctive hair and bundled up before leaving the house and making his way to the edge of the settlement with his head hanging low to not catch any attention.

It was a bit tricky to find transportation, but in the end Hope bartered a ride on a supply ship making its way up to Cocoon and settled down in the hanger of the airship, sitting atop a large wooden crate as he listened to the whir of engines and tried guess just which parts went together. It was a surprisingly easy mental game.

It took nearly two hours to get up to Cocoon, where he left the supply ship and meandered his way around Palumpolum, looking for a working train line that would take him further. The past several months had promoted many small companies to charter rides around the cities while damages were being repaired, and it took nearly an hour for Hope to find someone even heading the way he wanted to go.

"Bresha?" The older man with a thick blond beard asked, surprised. He rubbed a calloused hand against the clean skin of his head. "Yeah, I'm passing there. What's a kid like you doing heading somewhere so dangerous, anyway?"

"I'm visiting someone." Hope said, and then amended himself. "I'm visiting the memorial."

The man's sharp eyes softened a bit and his posture turned more sympathetic. "Didn't know they were finished with it already."

"They're not." Hope pulled his hat down to cover his bangs. "But it's important."

After that conversation, the man didn't even charge him for a ride, although Hope felt guilty and refused when the older man offered to wait for him to guarantee a ride back.

Bresha, on the other hand, hadn't changed all that much from the last time he was there. The lake was still crystallized and beautiful, although there were wide streets drilled to allow people to pass freely. There were quite a bit of excavations, metal and machines mixed in with the crystal in certain areas. The entire place looked like a beautiful piece of art in some places and an industrial zone in others. Hope stared in awe, allowing himself just a minute to take everything in, before darting around adults who were starting to look at him suspiciously.

After several minutes, he selected a young woman to ask for directions, taking her to be an intern and possibly more sympathetic to his plight.

"Uh-huh," the girl responded, chewing thoughtfully on her gum even as she gave him an incredulous look. "The monument's not far from here. They just started on it, though, and civilians aren't supposed to head that area yet."

"Thanks." Hope ducked away before she could ask any questions, deciding that it was close enough to go on foot the rest of the way, even if he had to avoid notice from just about everyone along the way. It was cold up in Bresha as well, colder than he expected it would be, and he could see his breath in front of him. Cocoon had never really been that cold before, but then again the fal'Cie weren't exactly keeping temperature regulations anymore.

Again, the way was surprisingly easy. A minute after he started in the correct direction, there was a loud alarm sound from the direction opposite and most of the people started racing in that direction, shouting for someone to 'shut it off!'

The crystal looked like the ice in New Bodhum, except colder even than that with how clear it was. He pulled his jacket closer around himself and stepped carefully through the worn path, remembering a time when it was warmer and he could barely keep his footing trying to catch up a group who were much stronger and faster than him.

Still much stronger and faster than him. They were all still so much ahead of him, looking back only to tell him it was okay to fall behind but Hope didn't want to fall behind. He wanted to be included, he wanted to _help_, and he needed more clues as to what was going on. Whatever it was, it involved him: his life, his memories, and apparently his deaths.

The area marked off for the monument looked like a graveyard, with walls that were crumbling around for a reason Hope wasn't aware of, and vehicles with materials. He approached the area carefully and crouched down, tentatively reaching with gloved fingers to touch the monument with the lightest of touches. He wasn't entirely sure it was real. It was a solid evidence that the Purge happened; that the explosions and screams had been real. There was only a base at the moment, but the monument looked…

"Like a grave. It's going to look like a grave. Not very creative, are they?"

The voice was high and childish, jerking Hope's thoughts back enough that he pulled his fingers away from the monument, suddenly aware that he wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings at all. Lightning would be ashamed.

There was a little girl crouched next to him, bundled carefully in a warm jacket and pale blue leggings, chin in her hands as she stared at him with wide green eyes that were brighter than any he had ever seen before. Her hair was a dark silver, slipping from the knit cap on her head and long enough that it was brushing against the ground as she stared with supernaturally bright eyes.

"But the good thing is," She continued to say, "It's going to be well-maintained for a very long time. Five hundred years, actually."

_When you see this and you believe they exist.  
>Come find me.<em>

"So you're Hope Estheim." She couldn't have been older than twelve at the very most. Closer to ten, and she was rocking light on her toes as she tilted her head to examine him, unblinking. "You're smaller than I expected."

Smaller than he expected as well, except… he swallowed, his throat dry. There was something about her gaze that was darker than one would expect from a child, bitter and pained in a way he recognized, but he didn't know _how_ he recognized it. "...So are you."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and stood up easily. although she teetered for a split second after she was on her feet. "We need to go north of here. Everyone will come back when they realized it was a false alarm."

She sounded awfully mature for a little girl, and she had obviously been expecting him. Hope wondered for a moment if it was so easy getting here because of _her_.

"Wait—" He reached for her hand, but then thought better of it at the last moment. She didn't look any in any way phased by the aborted action. "How did you know I was going to come here today?"

It was obvious — felt obvious to him — that she was the one who left the message on the website for him. She had been expecting him, and from the date of the message, for a few weeks now.

She considered his question for a mere moment. "Because you were going to come here today. You couldn't have come yesterday, and there's going to be an accident with the trains tomorrow that cuts off traffic to Bresha. You were busy last week, and you'll be busy next week. Isn't it obvious it would have to be today?"

It didn't feel obvious to him.

"You were always meant to come here today, Hope Estheim. No matter what happened and even if I hadn't sent you that message. There was always going to be a reason."

He got to his feet slowly, warily. The way she spoke sounded almost like… but it wouldn't be true.

"Who _are_ you?"

She looked in the direction he had come from, and then back at him. There was something in her gaze that he wasn't getting; something almost like the disappointment he had gotten in the hospital when he wasn't getting better fast enough.

"You should know." She responded childishly. "But then… you've forgotten just about everything. That's what the earthquake did, you know. Because she needed you to forget."

"She?" Hope questioned.

"The warrior. Her knight." Her brow furrowed delicately. "That timeline isn't fully available to me. Lightning."

_Lightning needed me to forget._ He swallowed his apprehension. "You haven't said who you are."

She once again turned her attention to the direction he came from, eyes scanning for something. She didn't look at him when she spoke again.

"I am called Yeul."

.

.

They made their way north up an untrodden path of crystal, Hope stopping every few steps to help the little girl past another obstacle as they slowly climbed up the crystalline waves. Her footing was stable, although he noticed after a few minutes that she tended to favor her right leg, stepping heavier on the opposite side in a vague limp.

"There." She told him, pointing to a platform only slightly higher. "We'll stop there."

"Why there?" Hope questioned, although he followed behind her carefully, ready to catch her frail frame in case she slipped.

Yeul continued on without trouble, though, not looking back. "Because he has as many questions for you as you have for me."

And just as she said, there was a man waiting on the platform, tall and dark with a stare just as intense as Yeul's, except in a way that had Hope backing up a step when they finally arrived. He wore a full bodysuit of dark armor, with a sword larger than any other than Hope had ever seen strapped onto his back, the blade curving out in intricate designs like wisps and trails of what could be feathers or man extended an arm to Yeul, who accepted his help gratefully for the last few steps.

"Yeul," the man greeted, his voice deep and smooth with fondness. "Welcome back."

"I brought him." The little girl told him, her voice gentler now.

"Uhh…" Hope wrung his hands together as the man glanced in his direction. "Hi?"

"Hope Estheim." The man's voice was dark and booming, deep in a commanding method that Hope had never heard before. "I see. Then this is your doing."

"I haven't done anything?" Hope swallowed the lump in his throat, breathing deep. There was a reason why he came here on his own, why he had to be here and why he had snuck away just to meet the person who sent him that message. "I'm here because I was called here."

"Because you want answers." Yeul provided, stepping to the edge of the platform. She looked back at him, and pointed. "This is one of the highest points in Lake Bresha. You can see the empty point left by the Pulse Vestige since they dug it out. Even though it's long gone, if you look from here, you can see there once used to be something that caused this entire lake to crystallize."

Hope stepped forward carefully, mindful of the strange man with the weapon still frowning at him. Yeul was right — it was easy to see the gaping hole between tall waves from this vantage-point. It was a black maw spiralling downward so far he couldn't see the end. From the other side of the waves, no one would be able to see it at all. But from this high up, it looked like a portal that had closed.

"Even with it gone, with people paving through the crystal, the Purge still happened. This hole is the proof. The monument is proof. This changed world is proof. You can see it, can't you?"

"Yeah." Hope breathed out, feeling cold.

"That's what I see." Yeul told him. "When a future is erased, it is taken away like the Pulse Vestige, but it leaves something behind. Something that's obvious to me, but no one else seems to notice. To me there are holes everywhere because of what happened over two months ago. What you think of as the earthquake."

"To…" Hope continued staring into the darkness, brow furrowed. "To forget?"

"One of the reasons." Yeul agreed. "The other reason for the earthquake was because of a time gate which had been ripped into existence. From that gate came your friends. The rest of the former l'Cie. They arrived here, at this point, because this is the start of it all. They come from all over the timeline, leaving holes like this because suddenly those futures never existed in the first place."

Hope swallowed hard. "You're telling me you can see the future. Every future that happens."

"Yes." The little girl nodded, wisps of dark silver hair pooling around her shoulders. She sat down unceremoniously at the edge of the crystalline platform, perhaps too tired from the climb. "It's not as many as you think. All roads lead to the same destination. Or at least, it once did. Once upon a time in the future, you researched this."

The words rang with truth in his head, and something within him agreed with everything she said.

"If a civilization is doomed to be destroyed, then they will be destroyed no matter what they do. If they try to stop it, they will start their own destruction. If they ignore it, then destruction is imminent. I don't need to see the details. But each future your friends bring back with them is an entirely different tangent."

"Yeul sees it all." The man confirmed, his voice rumbling. "She knows all the futures your friends bring with them, and the future you came from yourself."

"Your friend Lightning thinks that you came from the same timeline she did." Yeul continued. "She doesn't want you to remember that timeline. But you never came from her timeline, and her wish for you to forget is now interfering with your memories."

"She said — they said—" He shouldn't ask. He _shouldn't._ He already knew he wouldn't like the answer. "They said that I died every time. Every timeline they come from."

"You did." Yeul confirmed, turning her wide green eyes towards him. "You died, and the world slowly decayed. They were not wrong in your importance. In each timeline, your death signalled the fall of structures which would eventually lead to the end of mankind. Each of them made a wish after you died: they all came back to keep you from dying. To save you."

She looked away again, her gaze falling to the ground. "But they were all wrong in one aspect. Saving you will not save the world. It might even end the world faster. You are an anchor, yes, but Caius has always been very good at overpowering even the fundamental powers of this world."

And suddenly the man behind them seemed all the more threatening. "W… what do you mean?"

"Seeing the future is not a gift." Yeul's response was bland. "Every future takes a toll. Caius is my guardian, here to protect me from anything that might end my life prematurely. I have never been able to live a full life due to what I can see, but with the arrival of you and your friends, it means my life will be dramatically shortened. And for that, he would have likely killed you. Even now, your friend Lightning is searching for us so that she might defeat Caius before he can hurt you."

Hope was achingly aware of just high up he was, and just how close he was standing to a dark abyss. If he fell now, there was no way anyone would ever recover his body. No one would even have known where he had gone. He never even told Serah about the message he received because he had been so stubbornly insistent in his own head that he would hide something from the others because they had hidden something from him.

_I'll find out what happened._ Lightning was gone more often than not, and even Serah didn't know what she was doing. If the man — Caius — killed Hope now, would he go after the others next? Snow and Serah, who had just gotten married? Vanille and Fang, finally freed from crystal stasis and a Focus which kept them bound for so long everyone they knew was long dead? Sazh and little Dajh, who deserved all the happiness of childhood?

Lightning, who must have borne the burden of this threat silently the entire time.

And now Hope felt so, so stupid for going off on his own.

"Don't worry." Yeul's voice came as a shock. "He won't hurt you here."

"If killing you were my intention, you would not have woken from that coma." Caius agreed, unmoving from where he stood. "You have nothing to fear from me today."

It didn't make Hope feel any better, and he backed from the edge cautiously. The platform was small and high up, and the chances of falling (_falling, falling, rain and cold and pain_) were significant. But with Caius at the center, with the man's very stance oozing a familiarity with combat and the large, wicked sword strapped to his back, Hope figured his chance of surviving should a fight occur would be less than that of falling.

"Killing you now will not make a difference." And here, Caius sounded almost disgusted. "The damage has been done, and will not be undone with merely your death."

"Then why am I here?" Hope asked carefully. If he were attacked here, there would be nowhere to run. In his search for answers, he had run blindly into the situation, throwing caution to the wind. He had no one to blame but himself.

"Because I wanted to know." Yeul sounded curious, childish again. Her gaze was supernaturally green. "How do you think your friends ended up back here? Lightning is not that powerful. Not powerful enough to open a time gate for so many people. Perhaps she had the power to open one herself, but not for so many. Not for you. How do you think you're back here?"

"I don't know." Frustration leaked into Hope's voice. "Why are you doing this? You led me here." Comprehension dawned. "Away from everyone. No one can see us from here."

Yeul looked disappointed. "You're different without your memories. You need to remember soon. You're no good at all like this."

She got up from the ground, pushing herself up with her arms and then patting down her jacket.

"I'll see you again soon." She told him. "When you remember."

The next thing he saw was a whirl of motion as Caius came rushing forward and he stepped back in shock, raising his arms to defend himself.

And then he woke up in his bed.

.

.

.

"So what are you going to do now?" Vanille asked, her voice quiet over the phone.

"Don't know." Hope responded, carefully piecing together the model that Rygdea brought over just that day to keep him occupied. The problem was, the man didn't know just how fast Hope could assemble and paint those things, especially when he had nothing else to do. "Dad said he'd take care of it."

Which was an extra pound of guilt on him. Bartholomew Estheim already had more on his plate than most parents, and had casually offered to take up more for his son. Hope wondered when he might actually be able to take care of his own problems rather than have his father fight for him.

It was so different from his journey as a l'Cie before. Fighting had been easy then, and magic more so. Now… now the battle was on an entirely different area, one Hope couldn't possibly climb into.

"That's sad." Vanille lamented, sounding genuinely upset for him. "Weren't you looking forward to school?"

"Not really." He balanced a small plastic piece he had carefully pulled from the frame earlier, sanding off the tip, and carefully applied it to the model until it snapped in lightly. He'd need to apply additional glue later, but for now he had to see what the finished product would look like. "Dad wanted me to go more than I wanted to go."

Which now meant Bartholomew was coming up with suggestions for Hope to register for courses under an alias and take distance classes. Hope could see just how frustrated his dad was to have to suggest something like that, but he didn't mind. Besides, college courses were more interesting and specific than years at high school anyway.

"Well, you can always come back to New Bodhum for school," Vanille quipped optimistically. "I mean, you'll definitely get in. Serah teaches school here, too."

His movements slowed. It was just another reminder that the others were so far away. Sure, they spoke on the phone everyday, but Vanille probably visited Sazh and Dajh daily, and ate with Serah and Snow. Fang would hunt and provide meat for everyone. They'd all be together while he was so far away struggling to figure out what he was going to do. Even Lightning would go home at night to the warm house in New Bodhum.

It was just another reminder. And just another reminds that Lightning was out all the time trying to find answers.

Trying to find _Caius_.

He had still been wearing the clothes he wore to New Bodhum when he woke up at home again, and Hope was frighteningly aware of what it meant that they had taken him home: _we know where you are._

It had taken him a long time to calm down enough to face his father again that night, although Bartholomew had not been particularly mad about Hope leaving the house, not having known where he went. His father had even apologized for not picking up his phone, straining Hope's smile in response as he said it was perfectly alright because he should have remembered his dad was in a meeting at that time.

"Maybe." He conceded, although there was little chance of him settling into Bodhum now that his father was so settled in here. The little seaside town was too small, too sheltered when there were promises to keep and big changes to enforce. Still, with what he learned recently, he wasn't going to rule it out as impossible when far more impossible things have already happened.

Still, the knowledge that Lightning might be searching for Caius as well as a way to somehow fix things weighed heavily on him. If he didn't tell her about his meeting, then… then what? He'd be doing the same thing he got so angry about the others doing to him: hiding information.

But what had Yeul meant? Just how did everyone return? They all came back from different places, according to varying accounts. Gaping dark holes in the future.

"Hey, Vanille?" Hope asked hesitantly, remembering the waves of crystal at Lake Bresha, still there even after the Pulse Vestige was taken away. A dark abyss. He fiddled with the rest of the model pieces still in the plastic framework in the box, slowly breaking each piece away. "How did — well, the crystal supporting Cocoon is still there. If we all came from the future, different futures, and we're all here now…"

It was the question he had been meaning to ask for months now, but could never find a proper way to phrase. He swallowed. "I know you don't like to talk about it. But if we're all here and we came from the future, then… then how come you and Fang didn't end up back in the pillar? I mean, I don't mean I want you back there or anything! I'm really glad that you're out and with us."

There was a breathy giggle from the other side of the phone. "I know what you mean. But, well, I don't know. We all just ended up here. I don't know how it happened. That's what Lightning's trying to find out, right?"

"...Yeah." He ran a finger over a sharp edge of the plastic that would need to be smoothed down, feeling the bite even through his gloves. "I guess so."

He had a feeling Lightning knew more than she was willing to share. Knew, but was keeping the information from them because… because she was trying to protect them.

It was a heavy weight on the bottom of his stomach.

He just couldn't keep the information from her, not when he understood perfectly well just how it felt to be kept in the dark. Not the mention, if she was actually looking for Caius (and he wanted to take the information from Yeul with a grain of salt, he really did, but there was something in her knowing eyes that spoke the truth), then…

He was already dreading the lecture he would inevitably get for being dumb enough to go off on his own.

Dumb, unprepared, and far too cocky for his own good. He sighed.

Vanille gave a questioning hum on the other side of the line.

"Nothing." He murmured in response. "Just trying to figure out what to say to Light."

She laughed. "She likes being the one to take care of things, but asking questions shouldn't get you in trouble. Besides, you can get away with it more than most of us. Well, maybe except for Serah. Or at you embarrassed to talk to her because, hmm, she's really pretty?"

"You're really pretty," Hope told her casually. "I talk to you all the time."

Vanille made a cooing sound, and Hope caught his own words at that, feeling his face flush.

"That's not what I—" He stammered out, dropping the plastic piece he had been trying to smooth out. "I mean, you _are_, but — it's not what I." He stopped, and then huffed. "Has Snow been talking to you?"

"I talk to him all the time, too." Vanille confirmed, amusement never leaving her voice. "Why?"

He gave the phone a suspicious look, trying to convey that feeling through the line. "...Nothing."

"She's been out even more than usual, though." Vanille told him. "But then, Serah and Snow have been busy, too. I think they're planning on taking a trip around Gran Pulse… or back to Cocoon, I'm not sure. But they won't be here for a while, either. Maybe Fang and I should come visit, too! We can ask Sazh to fly us out and make a trip of it ourselves."

"I just saw you a few days ago." Hope responded, answering her wistful tone rather than her actual words.

"Yes." She drew the word out, ending it like a thoughtful hiss. "But we still haven't you seen your home!"

Hope looked around himself at his small room with the low-hanging ceiling and dull walls. While it wasn't the worst thing he had seen down in the settlements around Gran Pulse, it was a far cry from the type of home he had grown up in.

"Uh." He bit his lip. "We wouldn't have any room here. It's a lot more crowded than it is back in New Bodhum. Not just this house, too. There's a lot of people around all the time."

Which mean that he took a bit of extra care every time he left the house, because people were still recovering from the disaster of the Fall, and the few who recognized him if he didn't take enough care to not be noticed tended to cringe back from him as if they had seen some kind of monster.

He jabbed a finger at the plastic framework. Those people should really make a vacation out of visit the Archlyte Steppe, then. He'd like to see how they would react there with all the monsters roaming freely.

But then, he hadn't been lynched on the streets, so that had to be a bonus.

"We should visit." Vanille continued to gush. "See what they've done with the wildlands. I heard you guys are building a city! I haven't seen much of those on Gran Pulse."

"They haven't started yet." Hope corrected her.

"And it's supposed to be the largest settlement away from Cocoon, right? Not even named yet? Maybe we should give them a few suggestions."

Hope sighed, giving up. "...I'll ask dad if there's anywhere nice to stay around here."

"You can make it a vacation." Vanille told him. "Stay with us. If you're not busy with school, then why not? And your dad should come, too!"

"He's busy." Bartholomew Estheim was always busy, busier now than ever because he tried hard to take a bit of time to spend with his son on almost a daily basis. And even busier because he had taken on extra duties as well, and Hope didn't even know how his dad planned on fixing his education, not to mention the rest of the world. Sometimes he thought it was entirely un-fixable. People were just too… stubborn. Slow to change. Unwilling to see another viewpoint.

During darker moments, Hope wished that everyone could have gone through the Purge. At least then they'd at least understand a little bit and perhaps be more sympathetic. He squashed those feelings during the light of day, however. He didn't actually want people to suffer that, he just… he wanted them to try to _understand_.

For the most part, people didn't want to understand. They wanted to forget. Worse were the people who refused to forget, but instead raged and pointed fingers for blame rather than work on making a better future.

"Then it's decided! We'll come visit you." Vanille said. "How about, hmm, next week?"

"Shouldn't you be asking the others first?" Hope asked incredulously.

"Nope! I'll just tell them you miss us too much, and everyone will race to see you." She teased. "We just need a faster way to where you are, and we'd visit all the time."

Hope wondered if that was true. Everyone else seemed rather content with settling down in a small town out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by the wilds of Gran Pulse. Bodhum had always been rather small with only one real attraction a year, and people there were used to peace and quiet. It seemed perfect for Fang and Vanille, who had also come from a smaller place.

Hope, on the other hand, was used to the hustle and bustle of the city. He had grown up amidst shops and colorful ads, with stranger streaming up and down the streets every day and rapid transportation to the rest of Cocoon straight from his city. Palumpolum was a centralized hub, the commercial capital of Cocoon. He could hardly connect Serah's tiny class of children all various ages with the classrooms he learned in, all highly advanced technologically and with at least twenty students of the same age every room.

It was a new age now. Or at the very least, it was a transitioning time for grief and for rebuilding. After… then it would be a new age, hopefully one better than the previous.

"Or we could set up our own place." Vanille mused. "And then go hunting. Fang said you did really well last time."

He felt a swell of pride at the casual compliment. "Y-yeah, that sounds good, actually."

Vanille made a sound, consider the idea more seriously now. "We could teach you a few things about surviving in the wilds during the winter. I'm sure Lightning wouldn't mind that."

Hope perked up at the idea. "Well, it's important, right? Now that we're all living down here. I mean, sure we've got phones in case anything happened, but getting lost down here is still serious. Everything could be dangerous."

"Yeah." She agreed, and then, "I'll suggest the idea to Fang. I'm sure she'll agree, though. We'll take Dajh too if Sazh is okay with it. It's never too early to start learning survival skills."

"I'll tell dad about it." Hope said. "I'm sure he'll think it's a good idea, too."

.

.

In the end, Vanille's phone call ended up with Hope planning for the trip (which would be in three days' time rather than the week after as they initially though), contacting people, and then forgetting all about his previous anxiety in his excitement.

It didn't kick back in until Lightning called that evening.

"Vanille said you wanted to speak with me." Her voice was even, calm. "She's been arranging that hunting trip of yours. It's a good idea."

At least they were all in agreement about that. It was the one thing going well at the moment.

"Will you be there?" He asked instead, stalling for just a little bit more time to gather his thoughts together. "I mean, it's okay to take a break, right? From what you're doing?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

"I may." Lightning agreed. "If only to supervise and ensure none of you die on this trip."

Hope smiled. Despite all the confusion and anxiety lately, at least Lightning was still the same as ever. The smile faded quickly, however, as he realized it was now or never.

"I found Caius." He blurted out, and then amended himself. "Or at least, he found me."

That still counted, right? Technically, he had been going to meet Yeul. So technically, it was Caius who found him instead of the other way around because he had been looking for Yeul in the first place. (Hope tried to ignore the nagging in his mind about how technicalities didn't work out like that.)

"_Hope._"

He winced at the emphasis. "Someone sent me a message! It had my name and everything, and it told me to go find them, and I did, and that _wasn't_ Caius — it was this girl named Yeul except Caius kind of happened to be there as well and they were saying things about timelines and the space left behind or the holes left behind and then they might have mentioned that you were looking for Caius so I thought you'd want to know—"

"What made you think it was a good idea to go meet a stranger alone?" While it wasn't exactly a shout, it was perhaps as close to it as Lightning would get, her words filled with anger. "I didn't take you to be that stupid, Hope."

"I'm sorry." He blurted, entire body tense as his grip on the phone tightened. "I want to know what's going on. And I…"

It had been a dumb move on his part. The words appealed to his impulsiveness, and coupled with the sense that he was alone in this situation not because his friends weren't there with him but because they kept telling him not to look into things, the result had been near disastrous.

"He could have killed you." Lightning fumed. "I'm surprised he _didn't_."

He was surprised as well, but he didn't want to admit that. "He said that if he wanted to, he would have done it a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it better." She snapped, and then breathed out heavily, obviously trying to figure out what to do with him. "Give the phone to your father."

"What?" Hope gaped, and shook his head despite her not being able to see it. "I said I was sorry, right? I'm not going to do it again! I know I shouldn't have gone out like that; it was dumb, and I get it. You don't have to—"

"Hope. Give the phone to your father, or I will call him directly and this will be worse than it is now."

He shut up at that point, although still struck dumb. He had imagined that Lightning would berate him for his actions, perhaps yell at him, perhaps set a punishing pace during the hunting trip, but he hadn't expected her to… to…

To go all _adult_ on him.

He sulked. In hindsight, he should have seen that coming. Instead, he pulled the phone away and covered the receiver as he growled and stomped as hard as he could, trying to worth through the frustration as he fell face first down on his bed and muffled his disgruntled noises into the blanket. That lasted only for a moment, however, as he sighed deeply against his blanket and felt the warmth of his breath against his face. He got up again after that, calmer and a little more tired than he had been just a few seconds ago, and made his way out of his room and down the hall.

"Dad?" He called out, knocking on his father's room. "Light wants to talk to you."

There was a squeal of a rolling chair, and his father called back, "Sure, come on in."

Hope opened the door, and then leaned in to hand his father his phone, slinking out as quickly as possible after that if only to avoid having to hear the following conversation.

"Miss Farron, hello—"

For extra measure, he also closed the door.

It wasn't as if he needed that phone the rest of the day, anyway.

.

.

There was a knock on his door.

"Hope?"

Instead of responding, Hope dipped his brush into the dark blue paint, and carefully outlined the armor on the miniature model, making sure to keep within the lines of the image he used as reference. The rest of that tiny piece would be filled in with black, so it was alright if he accidentally slipped just a little bit at the moment. Blue could easily be covered up by black.

The knob for the old fashioned wooden door turned, and the door creaked open slightly, spilling extra light into his room. Hope hated having extra light when he was concentrating on smaller projects. That was the point of desk lights, after all, to make it seem like the only thing left in the world to do. It didn't matter. He ignored it anyway.

There was the sound of a quiet sigh, and footsteps walking in. The door was left open. It figured, his dad never closed the door behind him. There was a dull groan from his bed, and then quiet.

He dipped his paintbrush into the bottle again and returned to that piece of armor.

"Of course." His father said softly after several minutes of silence, exasperated. "This must have been what your mother meant when she said it's impossible to deal with me when I'm upset."

The paint dripped down unexpectedly, and Hope had to raise an already paint-splattered tissue to wipe outside the lines. He hadn't meant to push down that hard.

"She used to be so loud when she got angry — always had to give someone her piece of mind. Yelling and stomping around… that was all before you were born. She just had to the in the middle of everything. Never could back down from a challenge, even though she'd get so frustrated when something went wrong. It didn't matter if it sounded rude or inappropriate, if she had a thought, she'd say it."

"Mom was…?" He didn't mean for the words to slip out, didn't mean to stop painting, but Hope couldn't reconcile that image with the bright and calm mother he knew. She was always gentle, always ready with a smile and reassuring hug. Nora Estheim never got mad. Sad, yes, but never mad.

"You always took after her temper. That's why I was never worried even when you used to throw those horrible tantrums as a toddler. She used to get so angry, but that anger would burn out fast. It's when she got truly quiet, when she's more upset than anything… that's when she'd get quiet. _Plot_."

Bartholomew chuckled. "She could leave some nasty surprises for people who truly angered her."

Hope could see his brush shaking ever so slightly, but he didn't know why. He would need a steady hand if he wanted to complete the figure tonight.

"On my part… I don't like anger. It's an emotion that yields very little progression in the best of times, and is entirely detrimental in the worst. When I get angry, I eventually end up angry at myself."

Hope turned in his chair slowly, not putting down his paintbrush.

Bartholomew sat at the edge of the bed, fingers interlaced together and looking down at his hands with a wistful smile.

"She used to tell me… 'I can never tell what you're thinking.' She'd always wear her emotions at the edge of her sleeves, but I couldn't be like that. I'd rather not talk about it when I got upset. I would just rather it… pass me over entirely. And sometimes she'd…" His father gestured weakly with a hand and a nostalgic smile, but caught himself, smile fading. "She'd try to cheer me up, but I never wanted to deal with it. Just wanted to ignore everything."

The older man looked up, catching his gaze. "You're so much like her that sometimes I forget you take after me as well."

Hope broke the gaze quickly, chest feeling oddly tight.

"Miss Farron told me you snuck off to meet a stranger yesterday. A stranger who ended up being an extremely dangerous man, although she would not disclose why he was dangerous. She seemed to believe I would have a suitable punishment for you." Bartholomew broke off, looking somewhat lost as he ran a hand through his hair. "...I admit, I'm at a loss. Your mother always accessed situations like this more accurately. What do you think, Hope? I can't tell what you're thinking if you don't say anything."

Hope dropped his gaze as well, mulling over the words. "...What do I think about what?"

"What I should do. What your punishment should be. I want to hear your opinion on this, since these are your actions and I believe you're old enough to understand just how dangerous they were." Bartholomew held up a hand before Hope could say anything. "You're a smart boy. There's no denying that. You've got a good head on your shoulders. But being smart and being wise are two different things, and perhaps you're missing out on the experiences gained through wisdom. So I'll start here. You don't have to decide right now, or even tonight, but I would like for you to reflect on your actions. Miss Farron informed me that you are a very lucky young man to have escaped unscathed.

"What if things had gone differently? What would have happened to you?" His father paused, letting that sink in. "How do you think it would affect others who care about you?"

The questioned lingered heavily in the air, and Bartholomew nodded as he saw Hope's expression twist. He stood up, and headed out the room in order to let Hope work through those questions.

"Tell me when you have it figured out." He said at the doorway, and for the first time, shut the door behind him.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

I LIED ABOUT TAKING SUNDAY OFF SORRY. Well, that's not exactly true. I just got in as many words I could after I got back and before midnight, and then made the rest of the wordcount up on Monday. Sorry about the lackluster wedding scene - I honestly couldn't come up with anything and didn't have time to dwell more on it, so I just blanked it out. This is what we get when there's a tight time limit. Have four days' worth of writing here instead. The chapters really shouldn't be cut here, but I guess I _am_ just cutting these up by days.


	5. Days13-15

Days 13-15

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"You really think so?" Fang asked with amusement as she adjusted her spear, watching Hope picking the berries that he picked out earlier after a quick lesson about outdoor survival and foraging during the winter months. "You're sure with these, then?"

He ran over the list of poisonous plants that had been drilled into his head the past day, chewing on the inside of his lip as he nodded. He picked up one of the red berries and studied it carefully for a moment. "I'm sure."

He was stopped from eating one in demonstration, though, Fang's cold hand pulling his wrist away.

"Hold it." Her voice was serious despite the tinge of amusement still present. Without releasing his wrist, she tapped a finger against his arm. "Step one is making sure you food isn't poisoned. Step two is making sure it didn't come into contact with anything else that can kill you."

She tipped her head toward the bush, and leaned forward in her crouch to part the leaves with her weapon. Hope recoiled at the sight of thin, nearly transparent worms weaving webs inside the bush.

"Now those," she continued, "excrete something that won't hurt you unless you eat it."

"Urg." Hope made disgusted noises, eyes still watching the worms.

She tapped his wrist again. "Lesson two: always wash your food. Or in this case, peel it. For animals, always skin and cook."

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"So how did it go?" Vanille asked brightly as they came back to the small campsite built near Sazh's airship, several kilometers away from the settlement. She was sitting with Dajh, the both of them dressed warmly right next to the fire as she taught the little boy how to feed the fire.

"You're speaking with a dead man." Fang teased as she passed the both of them, reaching out to pat Vanille on the head before continuing over to the airship, the hanger doors open just enough that she could jump up and clamber in.

Vanille turned curious green eyes to Hope, who flushed as he dropped to sit next to her on the log by the fire, rubbing his freezing fingers together.

"That bad, huh?" She asked him lightly.

"I don't like bugs." He muttered, and flushed deeper as Dajh laughed at his words.

Two days into the 'hunting trip', and he was starting to wonder if he had assigned himself a punishment far harder than he needed to. When Bartholomew asked what a suitable punishment for putting himself in danger had been, Hope had eventually decided to leave his fate to his friends. Having to do what they said for the hunting trip seemed like a suitable consequence, especially since he was fairly certain he would not only have to listen to them anyway during the trip, but they might just assign him chores through the week.

Instead, Lightning had turned his punishment over to Fang, who gleefully decided to take him out on daily trips and teach him all about the wonders to Gran Pulse.

His punishment would end once he made it through an entire day without 'dying', which was to say: made it through a day without Fang pointing out how one of his own actions would have gotten him killed out there by himself.

He sniffled, feeling his nose slowly defrost by the fire. "...Is Light back yet?"

"She's talking with Sazh." Vanille told him, turning her attention back towards the sticks she was breaking apart in with her hands, prompting Dajh to return to his task as well. "So what are we having for dinner this time?"

Guilty, Hope handed over the pouch of berries he managed to procure that day.

"Guess we're having dad's stew again today!" Dajh said cheerfully, and Hope sighed. It was a good thing Sazh had gotten groceries down in the settlements before heading out with them, even though Vanille didn't look like she minded the fact that Hope had only come back with berries.

"I got one of those—" He gestured with his hands, miming a creature the size of his forearm. "Those things, out in the woods, but Fang said we couldn't bring it back because it was too skinny."

Vanille made a knowing sound. "It was sick, then. Better not to eat that. You don't want to catch whatever it might have had."

"It might not have been." Hope frowned. "It's winter. Animals have a harder time find food in winter, right?"

"Was it by itself?" Vanille asked, never taking her attention away from tending the fire. "Was it slow? Felt weak?"

It did feel slow and weak, but… He made a noise of protest.

"Then it was sick." Vanille concluded, and then reached to pat his arm. "Don't worry — you'll get hang of it!"

Hope groaned into his hands, and then got up from the log with a whole new determination. He might not be good at hunting, especially without easy access to his magic and an abundance of creatures around, but there were other ways around that.

"I'll be back." He told Vanille, and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm for just a little bit longer as he stepped back towards the woods.

"Wait, Hope, the sun's going to set soon!"

"I won't be far." He promised, looking back as he passed the first few trees. "Keep the fire going, and I'll make sure to stay close enough I can always see it."

Vanille looked like she was about to protest, but then thought better of it as Dajh looked between the two of them.

At that agreement, Hope made his way further into the woods, this time without Fang there to step ahead of him and guide the way. He wasn't exactly the strongest of them (weakest, more like) and thanks to the cold making him shiver, his aim wasn't the very best either. Maybe if he were in a life and death situation, the adrenaline might overcome that, but at the moment…

He examined several of the twigs and branches around the trees, staying away from the underbrushes and anywhere that might yield great numbers of crawling insects. Fang had him looking for beaten paths the past day, and at it was easier now to see where animals might have passed through recently, trampling dead leaves and soil.

If he couldn't hunt directly, then…

He thought about the size of the creature he caught earlier that day, and where it was. Taking out some materials from his bag, Hope crouched down, watching the shadows grow longer as formed loops and knots out of the twine that had been given to him by Vanille the day before. He formed a loop and then picked one of the twigs he collected, and then looked about for an appropriate area, finally deciding on a young sapling.

After he was satisfied with what he was doing, Hope climbed down from the branch he tied the twine to, ignoring the scrapes that felt like it had gone through his pants. He repeated the process in different areas, and then searched for a large branch, still small enough for him to carry around, and used the last of his twine to tie it down to a series of other logs covered with dead leaves.

"Hope!"

He looked up from his task, taken aback to realize that the light was almost entirely gone and he had been squinting for the past few minutes just to see a foot in front of his face. There was a small, flickering light in the distance between the trees, and Hope pushed back his bags, fingers cold underneath his gloves but somehow his skin was damp with sweat.

He paused, and then got up again, knees protesting. "Coming!"

It took him several minutes to make his way through the trees in the darkness, tripping over roots no less than half a dozen times on his way back.

"You look like you rolled down a mountain." Lightning told him frankly as he stepped out from between the trees. She was sitting on the log he and Vanille had been on before, dressed for snow and tending to the fire, not a hair out of place.

"I fell a few times." He explained plaintively, dropping down to the ground next to the fire, not even bothering with the log. He was dirty enough anyway that it didn't matter in the slightest.

She frowned at him, and then pulled something from her pockets before tossing it. "Catch."

Hope reached up with both hands before it could hit his face, and blinked at the foil packaging. It was a standardized ration bar, a familiar brand he had shared before back in the Vile Peaks when Lightning would hand him food because neither of them thought of skinning and cooking the monsters they killed. There just wasn't the time for that.

She was frowning at him when he looked back at her, although it didn't seem as intense as it had originally been when they stopped to pick him up from the settlement.

"There's stew up on the ship." She informed him, standing up. "But you should have that as well. You haven't grown any taller since the last time I first met you."

Hope turned his attention to the ration bar self-consciously, running a finger down the smooth foil. He knew that Lightning was still mad at what he had done, but he didn't know what to say to make it better. Apologizing hadn't worked, so they had both gone to ignoring the problem until it blew over.

"Thanks." He murmured, unsure of what else he could say or do.

There was a momentary silence before he felt her hand on his hair, the touch first gentle and then pressing down with more strength until he yelped.

"Now go eat something." She demanded before heading toward the airship, Hope scrambling up to follow her.

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The next morning yielded results for the first time.

Hope couldn't even cheer; he was struggling too hard to shove down his smugness as Fang knelt over the corpse of the same type of monster he had caught the day before, except this time the creature was much rounder and sported bright, healthy white fur.

"Not bad," The older woman commented, sounding grudgingly impressed. "That's a fairly good rolling snare."

She detangled the corpse from the trap, the animal still entirely intact, with no blood spilled at all. Hope's original plan for that trap had just been to hold the creature down, to trap it, but it seemed as if the twine tightened too fast as the creature tried to run past, lassoing it and then snapping its neck.

It was the only trap to have caught anything, the others mostly left alone with one that looked quite mangled up, but it was still a much better result than he had gotten so far.

"The location of the trap is wrong." Fang indicated to the twine with her spear. "The passage is too wide, so you wasted too many materials. The more downtrodden the path, the more animals come through." She held up a finger. "Ah, ah! That is not a good thing. If the creature had been any larger than this, it would have broken through your trap entirely."

She hoisted the up to examine it, and then tossed the corpse at him. Hope caught the creature uneasily, trying to hide the shudder as his gloves pressed down on the already hard corpse.

"Not to mention, what you have leaves your catch out in the open. If another comes comes across it first, it's free lunch for them. You've got a lot of room for improvement, kid."

She stared down at him, gaze hard until she suddenly broke into a smile.

"But a lot of guts as well, coming out to do all this yourself. Alright. Now that we've found something you're good at, let's teach you more about trapping beasts. And get your first catch over to Vanille. She'll teach you to skin it and we'll make a pair of gloves for you yet. Or a hat. What do you need?"

"Um…" Hope held the dead creature away from him, without trying to look like he was holding it away from him. Despite the journey as l'Cie, it didn't change his upbringing in a clean and sheltered home. He had never dealt with dead animals before learning to use magic, and had never known anyone who had either. "I don't need gloves. Or a hat."

"Then you'll get a belt." Fang decided, clapping him heavily on the shoulder and not noticing as Hope stumbled forward, her grin widening. "Your first kill by yourself. You ought to be proud! We'll make a warrior out of you yet."

He felt like protesting that he wasn't a warrior, he was… something else, except the words died in his head. He was something else, something specific, but he didn't know what just yet. Something from a future he couldn't quite remember.

Except no. That future was gone. All the futures that the others remembered were gone, because things had already changed. That future didn't exist any more, because it hadn't happened. He would make his own future from here on out.

Instead, Hope nodded, straightening up.

"Let's go." Fang told him as they stepped over the underbrush. "Let's find those other traps of yours, and I'll teach you how to make them correctly.

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He woke up in an unfamiliar room.

There was sunlight from a window, a narrow bed and a desk with chair. The walls were painted a pale yellow and there was a generic light hanging from the ceiling. Overall, the room was small — longer in length than in width, mostly to accommodate the single bed.

He didn't move from where he was lying, instead studying his surroundings without trying to give away that he was awake. He had no doubt that he was being watched, although he couldn't see any cameras from his vantage-point. The room was deceptively generic and calming, with a computer and even models and books on shelves on the wall. It might have belonged to a child or teen.

Hope shifted to the side, still feigning sleep as he peered around through his lashes. He was unbound, so the first and most obvious area of escape would be through the window. That, of course, was if they weren't really high up or deep into the ground with the light being a simulation. The entire room could also be a ploy, or even the entire building.

He didn't feel injured. The bed was soft and while there was a dull part of his mind that urged he go back to sleep, a larger and more alert part of him told him to had to get out while he still could. Before his captors found out that he was awake. Currently, he might have the slightest advantage if he could just get a plan together before someone came to check up on him.

Second option of escape: the door on the other side of the room, although that might lead to more complications. He's have to secure a weapon, find something to defend himself with, and then find a secure line of communication. He didn't know exactly where he was and how far away from safety. If necessary, secure transport after calling for reinforcements.

Hope breathed evenly, curling a hand by his head. Once he moved, he would have to be fast.

That was, unless he wanted to draw people into the room. It was doubtful that the door or window would be unlocked, and doubtful that he was in an area so easy to break out from. With that in mind (his brain must have been muddy from just waking up), Hope carefully pushed himself up in bed, this time taking the full scope of the room.

There was a backpack in the corner and drawers against the end of the bed, and… he caught his breath. His pouch hanging from the bedpost, his boomerang still in it. The detail lead to a barrage of others — pictures on the desk of Vanille laughing, of Snow and Serah's wedding, of scenery and places that…

Hope looked down at his hands. He got up and made his way over to the small mirror on top of the drawers, and stared incredulously.

_That's right,_ he thought to himself. _This is the settlement. I live here now._

Except that wasn't right at all. He remembered a great city with towering buildings, with warmth and children laughing in the streets and sunlight streaming through clear skies and walkways that moved people to their destinations. There were technological advances that…

_Academia._ He realized. _I went to the future._

He _remembered_. He remembered the years of study, still a little blurry like a dream he couldn't quite recall, but knew happened. He remembered the research, the desperation, the motivation for the future… everyone else had disappeared. They were gone and he had been the only one left behind. He was the only left and he didn't know why, didn't understand why everyone else was so important, important enough to be whizzing through the timestream while he had to stay where he was, taking the slow path.

_You died, and the world slowly decayed._

The girl who had spoken to him with her silver hair and green, green eyes — she wasn't just Yeul. That had to be it. She was _Paddra Nsu-Yeul_. He had focused his research all about her and the futures she saw as he grew up, seeing it as the only thing that could possibly connect him with his friends later on. His research paid off in the form of the Oracle Drive, and Hope had seen —

Lightning. Fighting Caius in Valhalla.

Things were starting to clear up. The pieces that he knew in his previous timeline and the pieces that had been revealed only in this timeline.

Caius had been trying to destroy the world. Why? Hope recalled the bitterness, the sharp hatred underneath the tone of the man he met the previous week, speaking of how each timeline shortened Yeul's lifespan.

But Yeul looked like a little girl… in fact, she looked like a little girl born on Cocoon. His previous research indicated that she was a chosen child of the Paddrean society, given the gift of foresight. But what if… what if the child wasn't chosen? The way she looked at him, the knowledge in her eyes, it made her look far older than her physical years.

_Caius is immortal_, Hope had once been told. He didn't know how or why, but the man appeared throughout the timeline, and not just due to his easy access in and out of Valhalla, either. If Caius protected Yeul, and he spoke of her shortened lifespan with such bitterness and surety… There was no way that Yeul was a little girl born on Cocoon during his lifetime.

Yeul wasn't immortal. The ruins at Paddra suggested the Seeress always died young. But Yeul had such knowledge in her eyes, knowledge that couldn't have possibly been accumulated within the decade of her life. That meant she was—

There was a knock on his door.

"Hope, breakfast!" His father called from the other side of the door, voice slightly muffled.

He startled, bracing himself against the dresser as a wave of emotions drowned out everything else.

His dad was alive. _His dad was alive._

"I, uh," Hope croacked out, feeling his throat grow tight. He wasn't sure if this was a dream or not. Wasn't sure if his future was a dream or not. They were both equally possibly at this point, and maybe he was lucky enough that they were _both_ real. "I'll be right there!"

The response must have satisfied his father, as there were sounds of footsteps walking away from his door.

Hope stared back into the mirror, taking in his own impossibly young features and wide, pale green eyes.

_I can do everything over again. I can do it **right**._

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"That doesn't look like the model I gave you." Rygdea commented as he stopped by later that day. It was a good thing he had his own set of keys to the house, given to him by Bartholomew in case anything happened and he needed to get in quickly. Hope hadn't bothered to answer the door earlier, too immersed with what he was doing to answer the doorbell.

"'s not." Hope confirmed, sitting in the living area with his computer in pieces all around him. There just hadn't been enough space in his room to do this. There was nothing but the barest of components running the computer now, with the screen on nothing but black and green coding scrolling down rapidly as it rebooted from a sequence Hope just programmed into it. He finally looked up from where he was taking apart the hard drive. "Did you bring the other pieces?"

The soldier heaved an over exaggerated sigh, and held up the large toolkit he brought along with with him. "I've got a few other things out in the car, but… what are you trying to do, anyway?"

"I don't know." Hope admitted. "That'll depend on what I have available to use."

"I can't even read what's on your screen." The soldier complained.

Hope didn't answer, instead prying his way into the toolkit that he asked Rygdea for earlier over the phone. There hadn't been enough tools at home, and he doubted he could just walk into a hardware store and expect great service there. He ordered what he could over the shopping line, but there wasn't enough in those stores.

Maybe he'd ask Team NORA for some help the next time he visited New Bodhum.

"Geez, kid," Rygdea stated, watching the teenager work cross-legged in a circle of sharp technological parts. "You're really taking up his mad genius mantle, aren't you? You sure I shouldn't stage an intervention before you turn out to be some kind of super villain?"

"Uh-huh," Hope agreed absent-mindedly as he found and pulled out the exact tool he needed in order to take apart the rest of his computer. He paused, though, and then looked up. "You said you had spare parts."

"Yeesh, yeah, yeah, I got it." The soldier held up his hands in surrender. "I'll go get it. But if you do turn out some giant killing machine, I reserve the right to be the first to say 'I told you so'."

Hope didn't respond, turning back to his fiddling. His current computer just wasn't powerful enough for the observations and calculations he needed to work on, especially since it was just a cheap thing meant to keep him amused and provide the barest of what every household had now. Even the older model he had growing up was more powerful than this.

But then again, if he was correct, then there was nothing in the stores that would provide what he needed. He'd have to make the whole thing himself. Easy enough after years of patching up machines himself, but that also meant he needed more tools and workspace than he currently had. More tools, more materials… even if he had the knowledge, he didn't exactly have the means of creating what he wanted to create.

There was a grunt from the doorway and several heavy thumps as Rygdea brought the equipment into the small apartment. The sounds came through several times until Hope felt the couch behind him groan as the soldier sat down heavily.

"You gotta at least tell me what you're doing with all of this." The man grumbled, and Hope finally looked up from his work to find several rows of disassembled computers, machines, and even parts from velocycles and chips from

"No, I don't." He responded, turning his head to view down the hard drive. The parts were primitive, especially to his experience. He would have to rethink of what he could do with the limited technology available. He had never thought about the resources that were available to him because of the Academy, but now he was starting to realize just why they needed that institution, especially after the Fall.

"You do if I'm going to write this off." Rygdea told him. "I can't very well tell my bosses that I gave all those extra parts to some fourteen year old kid. These things get recycled, you know. Sure, you're taking it off our hands, but I've still got to take account for where they went."

Hope looked up, and then made a split second decision as he set down the disassembled hard drive. "...It's a science project."

"You're not in school."

"Doesn't mean I can't do science projects." He responded, back to the computer. There wasn't enough items, and yet he doubted that he would be able to get any more. He looked up, already exasperated with the limited workspace as well. "...I need somewhere else to do this."

There was a loud sigh of exasperation from the couch, and Rygdea jumped up. "_Finally_. C'mon, I was waiting for you to say that."

The man patted him on the shoulder, and then added, "You're going to have to help me carry all of this back, though. This is what you get for not thinking things through."

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"What is this place?"

The words echoed through the room, concrete walls bouncing sounds back. Hope looked up and walked in a circle, an outdated computer in his arms even as he gaped.

"One of the older hangers." Rygdea answered from where he set down the equipment several feet away. "Apparently, it's structurally unsound. That's what was decided after the big earthquake, anyway, and it was a better use of time to build a new one rather than fix this one up. The Guardian Corps are using it for storage nowadays since it's already a completed building and all."

The man waved an arm to gesture to the walls. "It's all coming down in a few years, though. Maybe two. This is just one of the hangers - one out of twenty five, and the smallest one to boot. You won't get any heating here, but at least you'll get space to do all your little science projects."

Hope turned in another circle, still admiring the place. While it was a drastic reduction in what he was used to from the Academy (especially in the future when they prepared entire departments and offices to his different areas of research), it was still far better than he expected to start with.

"Your dad requested it." The soldier explained, looking up smugly with one hand on his hip and the other shielding his eyes against the strong lights in the room. "Said he was going to start something big. But he also said that the space is yours if you need it."

Rygdea pointed a finger. "You'll have to tell me each time you need to use this area, though! We can't just give it away, but you can borrow it when you need. I can list it as storage for all this equipment, but-"

"I'll tell you if it works." Hope objected.

The man gave him a narrow-eyed look, but then grinned. "Fair enough."

It was nearly three hours later when they got the space settled into some semblance of order, and Hope managed to snag several desks and chairs and lamp lights off Rygdea as well, although those were all obviously second-hand and in poor condition.

"Whatever you need, call." The soldier told him before he left. "No trying to get everything yourself. You've got a bad habit of getting into trouble, according to Bart."

Hope opened his mouth to retort that it wasn't his fault, and that he wasn't exactly going out there looking for trouble, but then thought better of it. Arguing schematics wasn't exactly his speciality. It was better to let the other person win the little arguments.

"...Thanks." He said instead, and endured as Rygdea laughed and ruffled his hair.

"No problem, squirt." The older man smiled. "I have a feeling you're going to change the world."

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In the end, Hope ended up staying in the small hanger long after it got dark, until his father finally came to visit him in stead the other way around.

"Miss Farron called." Bartholomew greeted at the door, looking around. "She was quite distressed when she couldn't find you."

He seemed taken aback by the mess of spare parts scattered on the ground, the room almost as cold as it was outside. Hope was bundled up in his jacket and scarf, although he had forgone the mittens for his normal gloves in order to more accurately work on his projects.

"Have you been here all day?" His fathered asked, and frowned. "It's freezing in here."

Hope didn't look up from the mess of wires he had enveloped himself within, needing more and more cables to run the power back to where his parts were at. Currently he had three monitors up and running, although there was only one holographic interface going that connected all three. None of those monitors had any real programming on them, however, merely basic coding to test if they worked.

He still didn't have a fast enough computer, but he didn't exactly have the parts for what he needed. Hope spent the day working through his memories slowly, cursing himself for simply not knowing enough about engineering to build it right up from the ground level. He had always gotten the parts needed in order to create something _better_, rather than needing to create something just good enough from parts that were obviously outdated and nearly dead. He had burnt through a good number of circuits already, very few of them able to handle to charge that passed through.

Three power supplies, six processors, and another handful of delicate circuitry that he tossed aside within the first hour. The success rate was far lower than he expected.

"It's a science project." Hope echoed his earlier lie, not looking up from the desk as he untangled the amount of wiring.

"That's not what I'm asking about." Bartholomew scolded, and then paused. "There has to be some sort of central heating here. They'd be letting their pilots freeze otherwise."

Hope didn't pay that any mind. It was cold, but he was wearing enough that he didn't affect him too much. Sure, his fingers felt a little stiff, but that wasn't a good enough excuse to stop working.

_He just didn't have time to stop. Didn't have time to die._

He was so behind. It wasn't just his projects that were in peril, wasn't just the world in the future that was about to be destroyed, but the fact that he could barely formulate the technology needed for the most basic of his ideas. He didn't have the time to waste, not when he already spent so many months just..

Hope set down the wiring, hands far too stiff and uncooperative to be of any use. He spent too long confused and - and a _child_, just throwing his days to the wind as if he weren't on a timer. It made him jump slightly as his father came up next to him, picking up one of the circuits.

"What are you trying to make?" Bartholomew asked curiously.

Hope slumped down his chair, pushing the old and squeaky plastic chair backwards as he laid his head down on his arms. Now that he was stopping to think about all of this, he was actually exhausted a cold. Not willing to stop anytime soon, but still exhausted and cold. He couldn't remember if he had eaten anything past breakfast.

Too many memories to deal with, too many anxieties and puzzles and connections and he couldn't believe he had waited so long to start all of this. He should have started earlier, been more curious about just what he might know, or… or anything at all, really.

"I don't know." Hope admitted. "Just something… better. Nothing here is good enough."

Bartholomew tapped at the holographic interface, bringing up the basic programming. He studied it for a few seconds, and then hummed, bringing a hand up to his chin in contemplation.

"You're right." His father finally agreed. "The hardware you're using isn't going to cut it. What are you trying to set this up for? Because the specs are too generic to be of any use. If you want to bring this—" He waved a hand at the monitor on the left. " —to be able to run properly, you need to give it a more specific purpose. It doesn't have enough power to multi-task. Then you'd have to hook the other interfaces into seperate units. The hardware you have here won't cut trying to power three out-sources."

Hope peeked up from his arms, curious. He didn't remember when his father had ever been interested in computer programming. Bartholomew Estheim had always handled the architectural, financial, and political aspect of the Academy until he handed those responsibilities down to his son.

"...What?"

"You'll need a stronger power source." Bartholomew clarified. "These things you're using… what are they? 500, 500 watts? We'll find you something above 1300. That's the first problem you have. There's not enough power to run all the basic functions."

Hope pushed himself up from his arms, interested again. "I tried to fuse two of the 500v power sources together to provide enough energy for the processor…"

"Not going to work." Bartholomew argued. "They don't work like ram You can't just keep adding to them like that. Whatever books you're getting this from needs to be completely revised."

Hope couldn't bring it within himself to point out that in the future, combining power sources was a completely valid thing. He never had to do so before he was eighteen, though, and was unfamiliar with the technology of this time. It was strange to think of it like that, especially since he could have easily built better systems and designs except that the most basic of technologies hadn't caught up enough to support his ideas.

Bartholomew studied the interface for a few more seconds, and then said, "You know, I've been thinking of putting together a school. More of an institution, I suppose. A scientific enterprise, one that we all desperately need right now. There's not enough power without the fal'Cie supporting us, but that doesn't mean we need to delegate what little we have. We could expand our horizons, learn to stop relying on the power of fal'Cie."

Hope's eyes grew wide. He _knew_ this conversation.

"Yeah," he breathed. "That's a great idea. It'll give people something to focus on other than just— just rebuilding, too."

"Thing is," his father continued, "We're going to need a lot of help. A lot of support from the government, a lot of really smart people."

The man readjusted his glasses, and turned to look down at his son. "The exam that you wrote… Hope, would you like to take that again? I know couldn't have been pleasant for you, but this time it will be for official reasons. We'll be able to record your progress and submit it to the government to put on record. You're… you're smarter than any of us ever expected."

"But—" He stopped. The last time, he had taken those exams when he was sixteen, after years of studying hard. It was only then that he had been placed at a post-secondary level. It was after that he started taking courses online as well as formulating his thesis. He finished his classes by eighteen, and and presented his thesis to the recently created board of directors at the Academy at nineteen years old.

But everything he would need to know to pass the tests, to write his thesis, he already knew. Hope felt a pang of guilt. Wasn't that a little bit… cheating? The first time around, he had worked _so hard_ for people to listen to him. He spent all his free time, every moment not asleep (and that was when started consuming unholy amounts of caffeine as well) studying and working on learning more.

It had been hard back then to see other people having an easier time than him because they were just more naturally gifted, smarter, or better at understand theorems he would work to memorize and dissect every other thought.

He wasn't the genius that his father, that Rygdea, thought him to be. Hope just worked harder than most because he had so little left to treasure.

Bartholomew must have seen the conflicted look, as he reached to place a comforting hand on Hope's shoulder.

"If you don't want to, that's fine." He said. "There's no rush. But I look at this," he gestured around to the empty hanger bay, the bright lights and the achingly cold room, and then down to the mess of wires and computer parts and desperate attempts to create something that didn't current exist. "I look at all of this and I think you want people to take you seriously. That you want to change things just as much as I do… if not more."

He did. He wanted to change things, not because he wished things were different, because he thought things were unfair, but because he knew people could be so much more. The future would be so much _better_ than now, and he might be able to jump-start that.

_Oh,_ he thought vaguely, _what about the others?_

The first time around, Hope worked hard because he wanted to see everyone else again. Lightning, Vanille, Fang… and later on Snow, Sazh and Dajh, and even Serah when she disappeared.

They were all back now. They were safe and happy and Snow and Serah were finally married, and Fang and Vanille had settled down as well.

_But what about Alyssa? What about Noel?_

"I do." He agreed, cold fingers clenching into fists on the table. "I want to change things."

He hadn't before. All Hope had wanted the first time around was his friends back. He had been left with no other choice than the do his best to change the future, because he had been the only one left behind.

Not this time, though. This time, there was something else going on. Something else that he would figure out, because he _had_ to. The others had all come back to save his life. To keep him alive. Hope remembered dying, remembered the cold and pain of everything — but most of all, he remembered the panic and regret, because he meant to do so much more than what he managed.

"Good." His father's clasp on his shoulder tightened for a brief moment, and Bartholomew smiled, his expression somehow wistful and strange for a split second before he looked away, once again studying the mess that Hope managed to create within the span of an afternoon.

"Then we've got a lot of work to do."

.

.

This time, the examination was up on Cocoon, in the remnants of New Eden. The building was small and official, the walls whitewashed and elegant with lights streaming in every few inches to give a fay glow about the room.

"How many sections will you be testing on?" The woman behind the desk asked them as he sat down.

"All of them." His father told her. "We want the whole spectrum, and then we'll see where to start."

The woman flickered a moment in surprise, revealing her holographic origin, before her smile smoothed out into something beautiful once more. No discrimination, no bias.

"Alright." She agreed pleasantly. "The first section will start in two minutes. Good luck."

.

.

It took the entire day this time, rather than the four hours he had been subjected to the first time. The tests were much more rigorous, much more exhausting. He was given plenty of breaks for both food and for rest, yet the questions just grew harder and harder by the minute. What had been mildly irritation was downright stressful this time around. Hope couldn't remember the test being so hard, but then again he hadn't gotten as far as this last time.

The equations appearing in the later part of the exams were only accomplished thanks not only to his intelligence, but his association with other geniuses through the Academy. Hope couldn't remember just how many times he read over someone's mathematical resolution, or new hypothesis. It was part of his job, after all, to review what was and wasn't possible in order to approve of grants in the research department.

As he drew out the diagrams for figures he couldn't remember where he learned about, Hope eventually abandoned his stylus, using his fingers instead to create diagrams on the holographic interface, the style not quick or detailed enough for him.

They skipped through the essays in this test, since those were an entirely different assessment situation. Eventually the equations grew too complicated for Hope to understand without a good amount of reference, and he changed onto a different subject.

Hours and hours passed before he knew it, until his father came back with lunch, and then again with dinner. There was something satisfying about testing what he remembered, about pushing everything that he had learned. It was — if he dared to say it, somewhat _fun_ blending subjects together in order to create solutions that weren't on the multiple choice.

It was exhilarating realizing that the information he gained from the previous lifetime, all those years of hard work and study and pushing himself to the limits, it was all paying off now. Now, at the very beginning.

He could shave years of research down. He could — he could _find_ the people who invented new strategies and theorems and new technologies. He could jumpstart the entire research into finding a new and safe way to save the world in the future.

It didn't matter if the future would happen all the same anymore. At the very least, Hope knew of one manner in which the world could end, and he knew of more manners in which to stop it.

As the test finally ended for the day, Hope walked out of the room entirely satisfied with himself despite not being able to take the questions to the end. He had to give up on many of the sections in the middle, not having enough information on it.

"So how was it?" Bartholomew asked as they walked out of the building, back to the transport that would take them back to Gran Pulse.

It was a giddy feeling, to know that there could now be easy transportation between Cocoon and Pulse.

"It was good." Hope answered, honest. He smiled, and this time didn't feel like he was hiding things from his father, even though he was. This time, he understood what was necessary to hide and what wasn't. "It was actually really good."

.

.

The results would take longer to come in than the simple test that Hope had taken before, and thus they spent the evening celebrating early as Bartholomew burnt through the food he tried to cook in celebration and Hope laughed himself breathless when presented with semi-black vegetables and gravy.

"I'll do it," he offered instead, his heart not clenching painfully at the thought of cooking without his mom for the first time in a long time. "I was the one who helped mom cook, remember?"

They ended up with a simple pasta and garlic bread, and his father eventually retired to bed while Hope got to his belated phone calls with Lightning and Vanille.

"So how did it go?" Vanille asked, excited. "Does this mean you're going to a better school this time?"

"I don't think so." Hope told her, falling backwards into his bed with the phone at his ear. He was so, so tired, but it was a good tired. A productive tired that made him both giddy and sleepy. "This one's just supposed to go on record. So, you know, if someone says I have to go to high school, then I can show them my exam results and they can't really say anything if my results are higher than high school graduates."

She was quiet for a moment, before asking in a quieter voice, "Are your test scores really that high?"

"Vanille. I remember the _future_. I think there's be something wrong with me if I don't score higher than the average high school student."

"Yeah, but…" she sounded so unsure that he sat up again, alarmed. "You said you didn't remember much. Just enough to know it happened."

He bit his lip, and took a second to think out his words. "...Well, I remembered more. It's not a bad thing, is it?"

"Of course not!" She insisted. "It's a great thing, right? It'd be really bad to live through a bunch of years and not remember anything from it. I mean… you must have learned so much. At least you can use all that knowledge here now!"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought." He responded, still feeling the faint warmth of knowing he might actually be able to change things for the better. "I mean, we can prevent disasters. We can make a difference. With the things that we know, we can _change_ things for the better."

"But…" Vanille sounded hesitant. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, what if we make things worse somehow?"

"How could we make things worse? We could help people!"

"Hope," and here Vanille started to sound more serious. "I know you mean well and you want to help people, but sometimes what's best for everyone is time. If you fix things for everyone too fast, then that's just going to cause more problems. Problems that you can't solve because you never knew about it. Do you really want to change the timeline that much? The rest of us had such terrible memories of the future, but what about you?"

He had terrible memories, too. He remembered dying. He remembered his father's death. He remembered attending that funeral and shrugging away Alyssa's motions of comfort. He remembered disasters and losing people and nights where he was the only person he could trust, and even then he couldn't trust his own mind to stay as optimistic as he needed to be for everyone else.

But he also remembered gleaming spires. He also felt the joy and exhilaration of knowing that the future he worked for was finally going to come to pass. He understood the relief that came with success. His future would have ended happily. His future had beauty and joy and the sound of children laughing happily without a care in the world.

He wondered about the world that Vanille saw, dull and dead. Of the future Serah described, of screaming people turned Cie'th. He wondered just what it was that Lightning saw whenever she looked at him.

"I…" His exhilaration faded away as he thought on this. "Everything was good. Everything was going well."

Unless Snow came to inform them of his impending death. Unless the assassination that wasn't supposed to succeed, but did.

He wondered how his future would continue to play out after his death. Was it like the futures that the others had seen? Was it like the failed future that Snow predicted?

"Then," Vanille told him, "Maybe you should concentrate on making this future, the one we're all going to live now, something like the future you experienced. I know I'd like to see it. The future you saw."

He mused over that for a while. The first time, he longed to save them all. He wanted to a part of things. All he wanted was not to be left behind.

"Okay." He agreed. "But then we're going to have to figure out how the crystals are holding up without you and Fang. And if they're going to fall down. In my future, they were supposed to give in five hundred years, and Cocoon would crash to Gran Pulse and destroy all life within two hundred years."

The crystal dust would poison everyone and everything in the world. If he wanted to concentrate on something, he would need to concentrate on that. While the crystal pillar had prevented mankind's annihilation temporarily, that wouldn't last forever. In creating this quick save, they had been given all new problems.

There had to be some way to contain the crystal dust. There might be some way to diffuse it, or maybe even create a tolerance for it. There was still life in Oerba, after all, even if it was nothing but a few flowers.

He sat up. That was it. He needed those flowers for study. He had to know just what made them grow. He needed to know the conditions of the future as well. He needed a basis of comparison, because nothing was supposed to be able to survive the crystal dust, and yet Oerba was infested with Cie'th. Perhaps there was something in their physiology that allowed them to either negate the crystal or utilize it within their systems, like a metabolism. If that was the case, then creatures could be genetically engineered to metabolize the crystal dust.

It would take years and years of research, but he had the time.

The problem was, there was once again too much he didn't know; too many factors to take in.

"You're a genius, Vanille." He told her in a rush, and she squeaked out a response at the unexpected compliment. "You're right. There's still too many things we don't know about to change too much."

He wondered if Caius and Yeul were still in Bresha. He wondered if Lightning would accompany him if he went to seek them out a second time, this time with more knowledge about what they could do and more prepared for bad outcomes. Yeul had said that she would find him again, and with her ability to see into the future, surely she would know when he wanted to meet again. Maybe he could do something big, something that she could see.

Maybe he could find Caius, or maybe if he told Lightning where they were, she would be the one to find Caius.

But no, he needed the both of them. He needed answers. Yeul and Caius were the ones with all the answers to his questions, and Hope was willing to do just about anything for his answers.

And this time, he had more to trade.

All he had to do was prove himself.

.

.

It wasn't too hard to create an anonymous account, although Hope had never been the best hacker, or anything of the sort. He understood how to fix and repair both hardware and software thanks to the years of fixing his own problems when his work had been sensitive enough that they couldn't afford to hire outside engineers. Classified information meant that the flow of data had to be extremely limited, and that meant with no one else to fix his problems, Hope learned how to fix his own equipment himself.

Normally, he would have had Alyssa there with him, possibly laughing at his failed attempts at anonymity, but she had betrayed him before his death.

He felt a twinge every time he thought about her. She was dead in this timeline, her name already chiseled into the monument at Lake Bresha, but he wondered if there was something different he could do to save her.

She had, after all, just wanted to live. He couldn't blame her for that.

Armed with several rerouted email services and a public server that would route his information through various datalinks on both Cocoon and Gran Pulse, Hope submitted his first design.

His sketches were light and perhaps a little lacking, but he also knew who he could send the information to in order to hurry about their invention process. The accounts would trace to Palumpolum, and then Eden, and then down to a few of the smaller settlements on Gran Pulse, then back up to several cities on Cocoon before passing straight through the settlement to the next big city.

It was better to let the settlement which would eventually turn out to the Academia in the future be one of the way stops along the way rather than avoid the place altogether.

He sent off three more designs that way, getting various information to various people who would need it. He didn't have to invent anything — he didn't want to take credit for anything that wasn't his work at all. Hope just wanted that technology to be available soon, he wanted parts of his puzzle solved so he could continue on to more complex things.

He had a lot of work to do, after all, and still not enough time to do it, especially if he was going to take on more problems.

After the messages and sketches were sent, Hope logged back onto the Bresha news article from several weeks ago when he had first seen the message sent to him. He had to scroll through several pages before the found the message again, buried as it was.

_Hope.  
>When you see this and you believe they exist.<br>Come find me._

He clicked to respond to the message.

_I remember._

If she really was the Seeress of Paddra, then Yeul would know where to meet him.

.

.

.

"Are you sure about this?" Lightning asked him after giving the plan some thought. The video call was more effort than normal put into their daily updates, but it made it easier to assess her reactions. For some reason, she seemed to be shielding her reactions more than he expected, but Hope needed to know if she approved of his plan or not. Perhaps it was the remnants of his need to please people, but he was wringing his hands from his end of the call when he explained his plan to find Yeul and Caius again.

"How are we _here_?" He insisted again. "None of us know, and this could be important. It can't just be some miracle or chance that we all ended up here, back in the past. The last time we brushed off what happened to us as a miracle, the timelines were split. If we just ignore this, then it's potentially just as disastrous." He hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. "...And this is all because of me this time. I need to at least find out what happened, and then do my best to fix it."

She looked skeptical, although there was another look in her eyes that he couldn't decipher.

"You've been looking for answers this entire time." Hope continued to wheedle. "What if they have all the answers?"

Lightning seemed to be assessing his reactions just as much as he was assessing hers, and Hope tried hard not to fidget under her gaze. There was just something about the way she was looking at him…

"Hope." She said suddenly. "Do you trust me?"

"What? Of course I do." His response was immediate, nearly instinctual, until he really thought about it. _Did_ he trust her? The answer was still yes. Without Lightning, Hope wouldn't be there right now. He wouldn't have survived their journey as l'Cie, he wouldn't have made it through the years after. It was the thought of her and the others that kept him going.

He trusted her enough to enter unbeatable fights, to make blind leaps of faith.

"If I told you right now," she intoned carefully, "Not to look for those two, would you trust me enough not to?"

"Yes." The answer was also immediate, and Hope flushed at Lightning's incredulous look. "But I probably wouldn't stop asking you why."

At that, a small smile slipped onto her lips, and Lightning finally looked away for a second. "...Of course not. You'd go up against a God, wouldn't you?"

Hope latched onto the piece of information. "Are they? Gods?"

Lightning gave a sharp shake of her head. "No. But the both of them have been blessed by Etro. Yeul's ability to see the future coupled with Caius's immortality means that any fight against the two would be futile."

Scenarios ran through Hope's mind unbidden. The simplest solution would be to target the weaker of the duo, forcing Caius to react in order to protect her rather than pre-plan. That meant finding a way past Yeul's premonition, and that depended on just how she could see into the future and just how much information she had access to —

But he didn't want to think about fighting a little girl.

"Then let's not fight." He suggested. "They weren't there to fight last time, and this time shouldn't be any different. I think…. I think Yeul is waiting for something. If she sees the future, then she must have a lot of self-control to not change things. She might be waiting for a certain event. Something important has to happen first."

"And you don't think our looking for them could be that event?"

"No." He looked down, thinking. "She said to find her again when I remembered, and I did. I think this is just the next step, not the final one. There are still too many variables we're missing. But we won't get anywhere if we don't step up. We have to a duty to—"

Her blue eyes sharpened. "We don't have a duty to anyone, Hope. We've done more than enough for this world."

"But don't we?" Hope pressed, his fingers interlaced in front of himself nervously, tightening as he tried to think it through. He didn't understand Lightning's reluctance… or maybe he did. She must have spent far too much time fighting in Valhalla already, all of that negated now that time was reset. She spent all that time on the front lines, and the others traversed the timelines on a greater purpose.

It was only Hope who stayed behind, doing to the best that he could. He was never sure if it was enough. Maybe if he really thought about it, the reason he was so adamant to push everything right was because he just hadn't done enough on his part. Maybe Lightning had done more than her fair share already, and he was pushing all of this on her because he was the one who hadn't done enough.

But he doubted she would be happy with him going off on his own once more.

He felt himself deflate at the realization. He was just burdening her again, as he had back in the Vile Peaks.

"I'm sorry." He told her. "I know you don't want to get involved again. I just…" He shook his head, and then straightened his posture. It didn't do to look like a reprimanded child. "I need to do this. I need to find out why. And if you tell me right now that I shouldn't go, then I won't, but I won't ever stop wondering why we're here, either."

Lightning leaned back in her seat on the other side of the video call and let out a breath, looking tired.

"Of course you won't." Despite the exasperation, her tone was fond. "It's not about me being involved. But you don't have anything to prove. This is a second chance, and you're…"

"I'm not a kid." He interjected, perhaps a little too sharply.

"I never said you were." Lightning agreed. "But why get into this? This world isn't perfect, but we're all here. We're alive. The paradoxes are gone, and someone else can take care of the future. We've already saved the world— more than once."

It was true. The timeline now was everything that Hope ever wanted, excluding the fantastical daydreams where he could manipulate time enough to go back to the Purge and save his mother. Everyone was back, everyone was safe…

"Not everyone." He said to himself, but then reiterated. "We didn't save everyone. Alyssa gave a decade of her life to figuring out how to save the world, just as I did."

"Hope, she tried to _kill you_."

"That doesn't negate the dedication on her part. And Noel — what about Noel? Are we really just going to leave him behind? Serah would never accept that. There has to be some way we can help him."

"If we've changed the future and changed humanity, he might not even have existed."

"And Yeul." How had he not connected all of this before? Maybe he had, but hadn't wanted to dwell upon it. "The Seeress of Paddra always dies young due to the weight of her gifts. It's because she can see the future. But now with all of us returning from different futures, changing things…"

He thought about the abyss he gazed into at Lake Bresha, the dark and depth making him dizzy even thinking about it. The Pulse Vestige had been a great monument, had turned the entire lake into crystal, and removing the Vestige didn't change the fact that the lake was still crystal. Instea, the crystalline waves now surrounded an empty abyss due to the removal.

Just because they had all come from different futures didn't negate the futures. Yeul described it as a dark hole, one that she could see. If her life had been shortened just from seeing _one_ future, then what about now? What about now that there were at least seven people out there carrying an entirely different branches of futures, all of them dark abysses?

He breathed out his final thought, "Are we the cause of her death?"

If this was why Caius was willing to kill of them, Hope couldn't blame him. But dying wouldn't save her. The situation would either need to be fixed… or undone.

Hope swallowed hard. Undoing to situation would mean his own death.

Lightning wasn't correcting him, instead giving him a knowing stare. "It doesn't matter if we are. Caius would destroy the entire world if it meant the smallest chance that he could save her. He has, before."

"What if we could save her?" The words came unbidden, but he couldn't stop the bubbling excitement. The solution felt _right._ If Caius was willing to destroy the world to save the life of one little girl, then… "We've done the impossible before. What if we could save her and Noel and Alyssa…"

"You can't save everyone." Lightning interrupted.

"I can try." Hope insisted, and then flushed at his own adamence. "I mean… with you guys here, what else is there left to do? Not to mention, I believe we can do it. Why else are we here? There has to be a reason. This has to be it."

He hadn't noticed that he was clenching onto the desk until he tried to flex his fingers and found them stiff, muscles refusing to unwind. His face felt warm, and he wondered if he looked slightly crazed and more than a little fanatical. He couldn't believe that there was no purpose in coming back. He couldn't believe that he would be randomly saved after his own death and thrown back into the timeline to relive his life like this without a _meaning_.

Saving the world was supposed to be impossible. Beating their Focus was supposed to be impossible. Taking down the fal'Cie was nigh unthinkable. And then seeing into the future to predict the end of the world and preparing enough to save humanity?

All of that should have been in the realm of _impossible_.

Luckily, he didn't quite believe in the word impossible anymore. Highly improbable, sure. Perhaps he was being too optimistic proposing to save all the people lost to the timeline, but it wasn't impossible.

Whatever Lightning was hoping to find in his expression, she must have found. It took a moment as she studied him quietly, much more quietly than he remembered from her, before she finally sighed.

"Fine." She told him. "We'll go. If you think you can do it…"

She smiled, small and almost unnoticeable, but breath-taking nevertheless.

"I'll trust you."

.

.

This time he didn't keep it a secret.

"I'm heading out to Bresha with Light." He told his father two days before the planned trip. Bartholomew Estheim nodded, although he looked worried.

"Is it going to be dangerous?" His father asked, and Hope started to shake his head before he stopped.

"Maybe." He admitted, "But it shouldn't be."

That information led to Rygdea being informed as well, and the man contacting several friends he had working at Lake Bresha to keep an eye on them. The soldier just shrugged when he informed Hope of this, one hand scratching at the back of his head absent-mindedly.

Vanille volunteered to go with, and even Fang put in her thoughts about backing them up in case things went south. Maybe the all of them together wouldn't be able to defeat Caius, but they could damned well try. If Lightning could take the guy on for so long, then Fang could definitely defeat him.

"I don't think we want to go in with a full squadron." Hope told them, listening to Fang cackle to herself in the background even as Vanille heaved a fond sigh. "We're just going there to talk."

"But what if things don't go well?" Vanille asked him.

"Everything will be fine." He reassured her, and then attempted a smile and hoped that she would hear the cheer in his words. "I promise."

Sazh offered to take the two of them, but had to back out last minute due to Dajh catching the flu two days before the trip.

In the end, it was Rygdea's influence and the Guardian Corps that lent them a vehicle to get up to Bresha on the promise that they would also deliver some supplies to and from the route.

"You sure you don't want back in?" Rygdea asked Lightning as they met him the morning of the trip. He flashed a charming grin, a hand on his hip. "I could use some help whipping the new recruits into shape."

Lightning slid past the man, stepping up into the plane and sliding into the pilot's seat, already flicking on switches and checking the computer interface. Hope scrambled on as well into the co-pilot seat, feeling young as he had to reach slightly with his toes in order to touch the ground. It was a strange and oddly discomforting feeling.

"They wouldn't be able to handle me." She informed Rygdea as Hope buckled up. With those last words, she flicked the switch for the doors and waited until the man backed up a well enough distance before starting up the engines and taking off even as Hope tried to make apologetic gestures through the window.

The spent the journey rehearsing through situational scenarios, whether they would be attacked and what to do in every case.

"They might not even be there." Lightning informed Hope quietly as they watched Cocoon come closer through the window. "And what if they're not there?"

Hope resisted the urge to pull his legs up onto the seat so that he could sit cross-legged. It was harder to stay still when he had to work on touching the floor. It made him feel unstable and insecure, unable to concentrate fully even on the view outside. "...Then we'll try again next time, and nothing bad will happen."

She didn't respond to that, and Hope turned his attention from the view outside the window to look at her, taking in the wisps of pink hair that peaked out from underneath her scarf, remembering a time when he was sure he would never see her again. When glimpses of pink hair meant a rare visit from Serah as he waited anxiously through the years for news.

It took her a minute before she turned to look at him, blue eyes sharp. "What?"

"Nothing." Hope responded honestly, and then gave into the urge to pull his legs up onto the seat. It was easier to rest in those seats properly when he was taller, but right now the height was odd and he felt better to sit cross-legged on the narrow co-pilot's chair. "I just remembered… I never thought I'd see you again."

Hope had kept on believing that eventually everyone would be reunited again, had worked toward that goal, but for some reason… he never thought he would be in the picture. He imaged a future where they would finally be released from their responsibilities, but in his vision it would be hundreds of years in the future in a more perfect society.

He worked hard to great that society. He wanted them to be exonerated from their past, to be praised as saviors rather than monsters. Academia was the beginning of that dream, and traveling to the future was his way of hoping, even a little bit, in being closer to them. He already knew that they would leave him behind in his lifetime. If he hadn't entered the gravity well, then he would have spent his entire life wondering just what they were doing, just when they might come back, and never see anyone again.

Lightning's eyes widened just a fraction, and then she looked back to her screen, hands tightening on the interface. Hope wondered if that comment made her uncomfortable, but didn't see how it would. It wasn't particularly personal, nor did it require a response from her.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the view outside, and spent the rest of the ride appreciating just how lucky he was to have gotten this second chance.

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Bresha was entirely unchanged from the last time had been there, but then again it had only been several weeks. The airship landed, and Lightning spoke quietly to several of the soldiers standing guard over the hangar as Hope stepped back onto the crystalline paths, watching his breath freeze in the air. He breathed in deep and looked up into the sky, seeing the other side of Cocoon and then down to Gran Pulse on the other side.

It smelled like snow, a little bit like how New Bodhum smelled like. The settlement still wasn't cold enough, but Bresha and the rest of Cocoon were on a higher elevation, and without the fal'Cie to keep the world warm… he wondered if it _could_ snow up here. Most of the clouds on Cocoon were holographically generated or herded by the fal'Cie into creating a more realistic atmosphere. Were there enough clouds here to create snow?

_Yes,_ his memories answered him. _It'll snow in Bresha soon._

He ducked his chin into the thick folds of his scarf and breathed out through his mouth, the thick yarn catching some of the heat to radiate against the skin of his face. He stuck his hands as deep as he could into his pockets and curled his fingers into a ball to conserve warmth. He had forgone his warmer mittens today for his normal gloves so that he could wield his boomerang easier should things go awry.

He would have add remaking his gloves on the list of his to-do list. The electro-magnets woven into his gloves would help immensely in battle, except he'd actually have the get the materials from scratch. At least he knew how to make that much by himself, having done it the first time at age seventeen out of a fit of boredom.

"Let's go." Lightning told him as she walked past, and Hope scrambled to catch up to her footsteps, cursing his shortness in his mind. Her pace was sure and steady, and while he didn't have a problem keeping up with her, he looked like he was jogging just to keep pace. "There's a team that will watch the ship. We're to be back within two hours if we can."

"That should be fine." Hope said, although his words were muffled by his scarf. He pushed the material back down, and then tried again. "That's fine. It shouldn't take us that long. They're either there or they're not."

Lightning's lips were pursed as she walked, and she finally nodded. "Where were they last time?"

Hope pointed up ahead, although mostly up. "Near the Pulse Vestige. On the highest waves."

The Pulse Vestige was gone now, but that couldn't be seen until one looked from above. Lightning nodded in confirmation, and set to climbing the waves, Hope following along diligently.

It was easier the second time around, not having to worry about a little girl potentially slipping in front of him. If anything, Hope was fairly certain that Lightning would be able to catch _him_ if he slipped. Not that he would slip, and especially in front of Lightning.

They reached the top of the waves sooner than he expected, but the view was empty. While impressive, Hope felt disappointed that there was no one there. He was so sure his message would be received and understood.

Or perhaps Yeul had foreseen the meeting going wrong, and decided not to show up in order to prevent a disastrous outcome in the first place.

As he stared down into the hole that once contained the Pulse Vestige and the one thing that both caused the Purge and changed his life, he felt Lightning come up to stand beside him and place an arm around his shoulders.

"We'll find them eventually." She told him, voice soft. Hope nodded, but then felt her tense.

"You came for answers." The voice was sudden, jarring; young and feminine and very familiar. Hope barely turned his head to look at the newcomers (and where had they come from? The entire area was clear just a second ago) before Lightning shoved Hope behind her, one hand already drawing her gunblade.

"There is no need for quarrel here." The man in the black armor, Caius, sounded amused, his lips pulling up into a smirk as violet eyes watched Lightning's every move. He stood to Yeul's right, figure tall and imposing next to the young girl.

Yeul, on the other hand, was dressed almost like a stereotypical child of Cocoon. Thick tights tucked into high winter boots and a bright, wool dress mostly covered by an oversized puffed jacket sporting a childishly floral motif at the hem. She had dark blue mittens over hands clasped together in front of her, and a matching scarf wrapped several times around the her neck. The only accessory that might be considered strange was the intricate metal headgear which looked eerily like a crown which seemed to hold up her vast amount of hair, and the thin pale veil that covered the lower part of her face.

"Do you understand why you are here now?" She asked.

Lightning tensed, and didn't lower her gunblade an inch as Caius stared at her darkly, his smirk turning to into a sardonic grin.

"There is no timeline in which you will win against me if we duelled here." His voice was dark and melodic, almost mesmerizing. "We would destroy this area and cause countless casualties. Your young charge will also die."

"Is that what she told you?" Lightning asked, her tone a challenge. "Or is that just what you assume will happen, because I can assure you that I am much more powerful than the last time we fought."

Yeul's strangely bright green eyes were studying him, seeking an answer.

"Do you understand?" She asked again.

Hope's mind whirled with possibilities, but all of them pointed to the very obvious conclusion he had already drawn days ago. He hadn't the connections to draw upon the last time they met, and everything had been far too confusing. He had been far too _young_.

"You brought us back." He breathed out, understanding the truth in her gaze. He stared at the young girl, barely able to believe it. "Didn't you? You're a part of it somehow."

Yeul nodded slowly. "Four hundred years in the future, a Yeul finds solace in your words. In your strength, and in your belief. She grows up scared of the futures she sees, but after hearing you, she will go bravely to her death. She understood that she can not change the future, but will wish for change anyway. And with her dying breath, she wants to give the one who gave her courage a second chance at life.

"Just like your friends, she will wish. Except this Yeul will give her life for her wish. She will die in the arms of someone dear to her whom she had never met before, and she will wish for a new tomorrow. A brighter one."

The little girl paused, her eyes darting a moment to Lightning.

"Three hundred years from now, a Yeul will meet her end inside a tower of glowing consoles and technological advances. She will be there because she knows that she dies there, and because she understands her part to play. Right before her death, she will see a vision of the future where people are laughing and living, instead of the future she sees her entire life of a world dying.

"Two hundred years, and another Yeul dies sealing away time anomalies. The anomalies could not hurt her, but without her sacrifice they would continue to grow and consume, until a vital site of the Academy would be left entirely barren. This Yeul knows that the area is of critical importance to an important person, and will give her life willingly with only one wish in mind: the same wish as the other Yeuls who will also die in sacrifice."

Hope didn't think it would be to save him, not the same as everyone else. That single thought was far too selfish, especially since this was the wish of a girl with the blessing of a goddess, born over and over again to live merely a few handful of years before she died.

"What?" He breathed out, quieter than anticipated. It didn't matter how quiet he was, though, as the slightest sound carried through the silence of the platform.

Yeul shifted, her green gaze unnaturally bright and so, so young. Her words were that of an older and far more wise soul, yet her gaze was that of a little girl, hopeful and scared.

"They want to break the cycle. They don't want to die young any more, even though they all know they will. I want to live. I want to grow up and grow old. I am tired of being a little girl over and over again."

Hope swallowed heavily, feeling a heavy lump settle onto his chest. He knew, of course, had figured it all out, but to have it spelled out clearly now was an entirely different experience. He didn't feel ready for the responsibility; felt like he just wanted to go and hide from all of this. Wasn't he just a child as well?

_No,_ an older voice spoke in his thoughts. His own voice. _I'm not a child at all._

He made a promise to himself that he would do his best, that he would solve the impossible, because if he stopped to think of what was and wasn't possible, then he might stop altogether due to the sheer enormity of what was expected of him.

_Save his friends._

Support Serah and Noel.

Save humanity.

Create a new world.

That list was completed, and now erased entirely thanks to the reset in the timeline. Now there was a new goal.

_Save Yeul._

He glanced over to Caius briefly, the man still grinning darkly at him and Lightning, perfectly poised and relaxed with his weapon still sheathed on his back.

"The wish of the Yeul who died four hundred years in the future," she continued, tone almost bored, "started a chain of events. The very same moment she died, you will have as well in another timeline."

_Rain and darkness and pain and cold._

"No one can truly bring the dead back to life." She said. "But the gift to traverse the timeline comes from the Goddess Etro, and she is known as the Goddess of Death to many. She gathers the souls of the dead and ushers them into the cycle of rebirth in order to regulate the chaos in the world. But Etro's powers are weak, and simple wishes are not enough any more. No matter how much she may want to help, she can not provide guidance even for her Blessed.

"Valhalla, the Unseen Realm, exists outside our constraints of time. To take a soul and simply move it to another time is impossible for the Goddess, but may be possible for someone else who resided within that realm for years unending."

And here Yeul finally turned her large green eyes to Lightning, gaze sharp.

"Lightning Farron. You were Etro's Chosen. You are the only one able to hold off Caius's attacks. You were blessed with powers by a Goddess, and even now stand here as something more than human. Your future is unknown to me, and moreover, so is the future you brought back with you when you started all of this."

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><p>.<p>

And here we pass 50k. In two weeks. This is ending up to be, uh, a bit more than I expected. We're halfway through the month, folks. _Thank you_ reviewers, because I got sick recently and every time I felt like I should just stop and give up because everything feels like crap anyway I look and remember that there are a few people who are actually following and enjoying this story and that inspires me to keep going no matter how crappy I feel or feel my story is. I'll go back and edit everything in December so that a prettier and more revised version of this story can finally see the light of day. Might be late December, though, as I feel I'm going to need a long break from this when I'm done.


	6. INTERLUDE I

INTERLUDE

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Valhalla existed both outside of time and at all points of time.

There were various occasions were Lightning Farron, Knight of Etro, would glimpse out toward the world that borne her and see her loved ones living and dying all at once. Luckily, she saw more than than she saw death for them, although longer still were the periods in which they would not exist at all.

One human's life was a mere speck in the oceans of Valhalla. One group barely enough for a pinch. She didn't have the heart to look for long or even clearly enough to see specific events, and often wished that perhaps her passing gaze would offer a semblance of comfort. She was still there. She was watching over them, even if not very clearly.

The greatest ache of all was for her sister Serah, who was beautiful and kind and wonderful in so many ways despite the failures that Lightning must have fostered her under. Serah was a bright star in the ocean of time, her presence calling out for Lightning to look.

And she had. So many times when she was supposed to focus all her attention on guarding Etro's sleep, Lightning found herself looking for her sister. She fought for her sister, and dedicated her strength in fights to her. It was all she could do because no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't return to Serah.

The happiness of one human, or even a small group, was nothing in comparison to the lives and safety of everyone.

Or at least, that was what she had thought.

Even when the future had demanded Serah's life in exchange for its safety, Lightning had backed down. She had foisted the blame and guilt onto herself, and she had given her own life where possible. She submitted to a crystal sleep after her duty to the Goddess was over, and dreamed of a better time.

Instead, she woke up in chaos.

She woke to a God who promised to bring her sister back, and Lightning should have known from her time in Valhalla that people do not truly come back from the dead, but she wanted to believe so badly. She should have known better, but it was Hope who was offering and he was just a sweet boy with all the best intentions and no matter how high she built her walls and how hard she tried to keep people out, he somehow always could dive under her skin in a way no one else could.

She should have known better.

But in the end, the more Hope promised her, the more she found that she couldn't trust him at all. It wasn't just that he was under the influence of a God, or that the more she found out about the world the more she realized things weren't just _wrong_, but because somehow he actually needed to convince her.

_Maybe Hope isn't Hope at all,_ Lumina whispered gleefully to her in the realm of her own headspace. _Who knows just what is listening through his ears?_

A thousand years ago, when the two of them journeyed together under a dark fate, Lightning had promised herself that she would protect the boy who stumbled after her, who looked at her like she was the only light left in his world, whose pale green eyes who find her before he offered himself to danger.

A thousand years later, the two of them were pitted together once more in a world time had long since forgotten, except this time his eyes rarely found hers at all, and she couldn't much bring herself to look at him either. A long time ago, Hope had a way of getting to her; constantly drawing his attention with his noisy footsteps, his need for rest and frequent breaks, and with his mercurial mood swings. He was irritating and attention-grabbing and no matter how much she wanted to push him away, she found herself unable to. He was once everything she had been, and if she didn't interfere, then he would follow her footsteps into a dark future.

She had wanted to change that. Selfishly, she had seen too much of her own childhood in his eyes and wanted to give him an option she had never gotten.

And then at the of the world, she had looked to him and once more seen herself within him, except this time it was the same defeat, the same emptiness.

_I failed,_ she thought, and strived to look away from him once more.

Her goal had to be to bring her sister back, to see Serah again.

But Lightning should have been paying more attention.

_Hope Estheim disappeared a long time ago._

_The world has fallen apart ever since._

_God will appear at the end of the world, when the bells toll._

And there was the ever empty smile Hope would give when she looked his way. _Even if you go up against God,_ he would tell her, _I'll back you up._

A long time ago, he would never have to say something like that. Instead, he would stammer and wring his hands, face red even as he looked away, and promise that he'd help in any little way he could. At the end of the world, there was no stammering, no nervousness. There was something about his empty smile that nagged at her, that made her distrustful just like his words once made her smile fondly.

It was the smile that made her think _I don't believe you_ every time she looked at him.

But it hadn't been until the end of the world that she acknowledged there was something actually wrong. It hadn't been until the end when she was forced to confront the struggle she had ignored in front of her own face all along.

_Hey, Light…? If the souls of the dead are saved, will I…? Do you think my soul will— _

She had missed all the details. All the clues. Every nuance Hope might have pushed in front of her, pleading for her to see and understand, had been lost to her. In the end, she didn't have a right to be surprised when Bhunivelze revealed himself to be a malicious God after all, not when he had been dangling Hope as a puppet in front of her the entire time.

Lightning had been so blindly focused on Serah, on the tasks before her, that she never looked close enough at the person beside her.

_I failed you._

Her promise a thousand years ago had been shattered into so many pieces she couldn't begin to see where it all went wrong. Serah's death, Snow's suffering, and now her blatant failure to protect Hope as well. He had been in the clutches of a malicious God, one who cared nothing for the free will of humans, for a hundred and sixty nine years. And when Bhunivelze demonstrated just how easily he could break Hope's bones in front of her, Lightning understood with a startling clarity that no matter how many souls she saved, no matter if she finally got Serah back, this cruel God would continue to play with Hope's soul. He would attempt to twist and bend him, would torment and break the boy she promised to look after.

She failed him for so long by always just assuming that he would be alright. That he would be there to back her up, even though she should have been there for him as well. If the only way to help him now was to kill the one God others called the Maker, then that was what she would do.

She would destroy Bhunivelze, even if the God had already destroyed both the new world and the old one. Even if there was nothing left. She had the power to rescue souls. She had been given that power in preparation to ascend as the new Goddess of Death. She had access to Valhalla.

And in Valhalla, one could access all of time.

She would rescue Serah. Save everyone who mattered.

And for Hope, she would ensure he never remembered the pain he went through for so long.

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><p>.<p>

Sorry this is just an interlude! So I have been preeeetty sick the past few days and I, err, had to trash the bit I did manage to write while dosed up on medication because it just... really made zero sense. ^^;; I have no idea what I was thinking. Don't do drugs, kids, your brain turns to mush. I will, however, hopefully return to this tomorrow even if it's at a slightly slower pace! o9


	7. Days19-21

Days 19-21

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_"There is one more element missing before you can start, and it is up to you to decide what that is."_

Hope turned the crystal over and over within his fingers, the small glowing stone a near perfect sphere gathering the light that shone through it. He aligned it up to the light of his room from where he was lying on his bed, trying to make out the different colors that prismed through.

He knew what Lightning would say. He knew what Serah would say, what Snow would say.

Caius had looked murderous when Yeul gave him the crystal, although Hope didn't understand why. Or maybe he did. The power it represented was not one to be taken lightly. Even now he didn't want the responsibility of having to chose.

_ "All the other players are in place."_ She told him. _ "You must choose the last."_

Alyssa Zaidelle had no family. Everyone who could care for her had died in the fall of Cocoon. Because of this, she pushed herself with a drive unmatched by anyone else, seeking to distract her talented mind by creating solutions no one had thought of, by solving problems no one could comprehend. She spent years under the care of the government, and then caught the attention of the Academy.

She was a brilliant person, filled with life and purpose. Despite her origins, despite what happened to her, all Alyssa wanted to was _live_. She wanted that so much Hope couldn't understand it.

Noel Kreiss came from a desolate future. Hope didn't know much about the man, not like he had known Alyssa, but he understood loneliness when he saw it. He recognized the relentless determination, because anything was better than the alternative. The young man was cheerful and optimistic, willing to go through near impossible lengths in order to create a better future for mankind. He had been one chosen by Etro, chosen by Lightning, to undertake a task so important that Hope had never heard more than a few words from anyone about it.

He knew who the others would choose. Snow had been the one who came with Alyssa's arrest, after all, and Lightning's tone when he brought up her name said it all. Serah still missed Noel even now.

_ "There is one more wish left unfulfilled."_ Yuel told him before. _ "The others wished to save you. But your wish was never considered."_

He could save one person, and only one.

He knew what the others would say. Knew what the obvious choice was. But even knowing, he didn't want to be the one who made the decision. He didn't want to bear that burden of knowing _I chose to let you die_. He understood the obvious choice, but no one else knew Alyssa like he did. She was brilliant. She was driven. She stayed with him for years when no one else was there. She was obsessive, and tended to be a perfectionist and would double, triple, check both his results and her own.

Alyssa laughed harder than anyone else, worked harder than anyone else, _lived_ more than anyone else. She smiled and she lied and she helped him and deceived him, and Hope had never been able to understand her, but he also could never blame her for turning on him. He had known from the very beginning that she preferred her lies, and that she valued her own life above all. He accepted that, just as she accepted his tendency to stay silent on his past and his obsessive focus on saving his friends.

They had been an odd pair, true, but they got things done together. Hope would never have made it to 400AF without Alyssa Zaidelle. He wouldn't have accomplished half of what he did without her. She was important to him.

On the other hand, Noel was also an important person to him. He was so important to Serah, and was one of the few people Hope could consider a friend despite their brief encounters. He deserved to live, must want to live, just as much as Alyssa.

Hope closed his eyes, letting his arm fall back down so that the crystal rested lightly against his chest. It should have been his decision alone. No one should have the power to decide between human lives, no matter how they were supposed to save the future. It shouldn't be his decision. Rather, he was willing to argue for both sides, or perhaps play Devil's advocate for Alyssa.

He breathed out in a huff, lips twisting into a sardonic smile.

Devil's advocate, huh…? The phrase seemed so final to the decision. Was even he biased against her now?

"It's up to you." Lightning told as they left Bresha, still tense despite having left Caius and Yeul behind them. This time, Yeul had given him a number and pulled out her phone, explaining that in this lifetime she was born on Cocoon and wanted to stay there for a change. Hope had glanced over for Lightning's opinions on that, but her lips were tight at the exchange.

"It shouldn't be up to me." Hope had argued, shifting in his seat on the airship and trying to display his unease. "I'm not the only one this affects. Aren't we all in this together? I mean, we need to work together this time if we're going to succeed. Isn't that the reason why we're all together again?"

In the end, the choice had been left to him.

_My wish, huh?_ He opened his eyes slowly, gazing at the empty ceiling. He had so many of them, and yet none at the same time. He wanted to save the world, but that could be accomplished through time and hard work. If nothing else, Hope had just about everything he could have wished for. His friends were back, safe and sound. And it had taken so many wishes, so many different people, and so much sacrifice, just to get to this point.

_"This is a bargain. An exchange."_ Yeul told him carefully. _"I am not entirely selfless. In return, you will have to do the impossible once more. This time, you will have to save me."_

She wasn't looking at him when she said that, but at Caius, who gazed back at her steadily.

The Seeress lives short lives, dies, and is reborn. The cycle continues endlessly, and Caius is immortal. How many times has he had to watch her die? How long did she have yet to live?

Hope didn't know where to start. But then again, apparently he was still missing an element.

Given the choice… his grip on the crystal tightened. If given the choice, Hope would be selfish. Rather than Alyssa or Noel, he would have chosen his mother. To see her again. While in this timeline her passing was still recent, still painful, add all the years he had experienced altogether and it was sad to know that her loss stayed just as raw and painful.

But she wasn't from the future. Rather, she was already dead.

_ "You will find someone to help you from your future. Yours, and no others."_

From his future. The future with a world being built up in the sky to replace Cocoon, with a bustling city of happy people, with children laughing in the streets and playing carelessly because they don't need to worry about the future anymore. Hope wanted to think it was a good future regardless of his own fate.

It was the very same future he came from where Alyssa's eyes darkened with hate and she struggled against her captors when Snow accused her of planning murder. But then, he didn't know if she existed in other futures. The very same future where Noel had been dropped off to stay with him during a very tense time.

Hope frowned up at the ceiling. Snow's prophetic words turned out to be true, after all.

There was a sudden knock on his door.

"Hope?" His father called out from the other side. There was a strange intonation in his voice. "Your test results came in."

Hope shoved the crystal under his pillow, and pushed himself up from bed. "Okay. I'll be right out."

He pulled on another sweater along the way, large and baggy to give him room to grow into, the yarn soft and the collar excessively high into a folded down turtleneck. It was getting colder still in the settlement, although there was no sign of snow anywhere. It was a different region, he knew, but it still seemed strange to have the weather so drastically different when other areas were only a few hours away. At least, it was strange to the child him, the one who had never experienced a winter off the Cocoon that had been completely temperature controlled. Sometimes he lost himself between the memories of the future and the wonder of the present.

He wondered if his test results would be good enough to slot him into a spot with a research team. Probably not, especially with his lack of experience (not entirely true, but how could he prove otherwise?), but it might get a foot in the door at the very least.

He wondered what kind of research teams Eden still employed. Hope had never really been noticed, had rather been deliberately ignored, by academics before the Academy sprouted up. It had been both frustrating and extremely productive in the prior timeline, as it just made him throw himself harder into his studies. This time he would try harder, push harder, in order to create changes earlier and make things better. This time he wanted to wipe out the need to travel four hundred years into the future to ensure everything was on track.

"What does it say?" Hope asked as he stepped into the living area, rubbing his arms in attempt to warm them. The apartments had been turning up the heat to compensate for the colder weather, but it didn't help all too much when the building was made for temporary residence. The walls just weren't thick enough to hold in all the heat. It was still far warmer than outside, but colder than the residents were used to.

"I've saved it for you to open." Bartholomew told him from where he sat on the couch with his tablet, handing a stark white envelope over to him. He had a strange look about his face, though, and Hope took the envelope wondering just what had his father in a loop. If his test results hadn't even been opened yet…

He pushed a finger under the cavity of the flap and pulled it open, pulling out a thin sheet of transparent imprint paper. Fancy. the datachips embedded were nearly entirely transparent and so thin it could barely be told from a thicker and more formal sheet of paper. It was flexible as well, although the fold smoothed itself out when Hope pulled the sheet taut, and a question at the top of the page flashed for identification.

"It's not the only letter that came in today." Bartholomew spoke up unexpectedly, prompting Hope to look up from the sheet. The older man was seated comfortably on the couch, although there was an unreadable expression on his face. "As the scores go on public record, Eden University's scientific departments have sent along several letters as well."

Hope didn't see any other letters. He startled, breathing in sharply at the thought. Maybe he'd actually be able to continue his work sooner than he thought?

"Hope…" His father hesitated, brows furrowed in thought. "They have questions. And to be honest, so do I. I'd like to think that I give you enough space, and I know you're smarter than anyone realizes, but those… those are some very high profile names requesting to speak with you."

The lights on the sheet continued flashing, continued to request identification. Hope found himself tongue-tied.

"Each assessment test, I've recently been told," Bartholomew said slowly, "contains several questions meant to be unsolvable. It's not to be counted against the tester who gets it wrong. I was told today that there are currently fifteen such questions in the most recent rendition, none of which would be included in the actual test results."

That was something Hope was vaguely familiar with. Those who took assessment exams were usually ahead of their peers, and thus the Academy had a tendency of sneaking in harder questions sometimes based on current research to get some topographical data and an outside perspective on how to tackle problems. Those who came close to solving the equations would be monitored and then invited to the team of scientists working directly with that area. It helped with early recruitment to put brilliant minds at work without making them jump through more hoops than necessary.

Suddenly, Hope wondered if he shouldn't have worked quite _that_ hard on the exam, after all.

"According to quite a number of scientists who have called me today, you managed to solve three out of the eleven you encountered on the exam. The reason the scores came back so late is because they decided to double, and then triple, check everything."

Solve. _Oops._

Hope winced. He had been _fairly_ sure that he avoided all those questions. Had been quite proud of himself for having seen quite a few of them, too.

"Hope… you…" His father breathed out a quiet sigh, bringing up a hand to adjust his glasses. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know." Hope interjected quickly, hands tightening around the envelope and sheet. "I know that."

Bartholomew watched him carefully for a long moment, and then nodded. "...Alright. I know that I'm not always there, and I'm not always — your mother always knew what to say in this situation."

There was a tightness in his chest just at the mention of his mother, and Hope swallowed hard. With this kind of conversation, he didn't really have to see his results to know that he had perhaps focused so hard at advancing his work by bypassing his studies that he hadn't thought enough about the repercussions.

"I know." Hope repeated, hands tightening once more on the sheet. It was obvious that his father knew something was going on, and that Hope was keeping something from him. But at the same time, Hope couldn't figure out a way to reveal anything without sounding absolutely crazy. Crazier than normal, anyway, having come home that day to reveal himself as a Pulse l'Cie. His father had believed in him then, but right now… right now Hope didn't think it was best for his father to know about the alternate futures. To know that the world would end, and that there was a girl out there who could see the futures.

To know that Hope had come from a future where he died, and that the others also all came from futures that had his death.

"I know things are…" he struggled for a word, feeling his father's stern gaze on him. "Really weird right now. I can't really explain things yet. But I will." Eventually. When things made more sense. At the moment, Hope was still trying to piece things together himself. It had taken him far too long to even put his memories together, and he just needed more time with everything before he could string up the words to tell his dad what was going on. How could he possibly convey that? "...I promise."

The words, perhaps his tone, seemed to appease Bartholomew.

"Alright." His father agreed reluctantly. "I'll forward you the messages I've received. Then you can decided what to do with them. If you don't want anything to do with it, that's alright. If you want to meet with the professors… that's fine as well. Just give me some warning."

"I will." Hope promised, this one easier.

That signalled the end of that conversation, and Hope settled in to sit down next to his father as he pressed a finger against the sheet to identify himself, and they shared the results of the examination.

Strangely enough, the high scores didn't seem to please Hope as much as he thought it would.

.

.

.

The next few days were a blur and busier than Hope would have preferred.

Multiple messages between multiple scientists had revealed attitudes both excited to see what he could contribute and far too scared of l'Cie to actually meet him in person. There was only one, an older lady with a shocking head of white hair who almost looked like she electrocuted herself with the way the strands would stand up every which direction, who insisted that she come meet him face to face in order to discus modern theories on mechanical engineering.

"Pish-posh." She dismissed his hesitant remarks about her decision to meet a former l'Cie easier with a wave of her hand, the edges of her eyes crinkling up in amusement. "I'm an old lady, what need have I of reputations? If I haven't gotten enough respect from my colleagues by now, I might as well retire. Bah. Those fools don't know what they're missing out on, but I'm not going to be like those narrow minded cockholds."

Sadly, she was barely able to stay for a few hours as he introduced her to the makeshift labs he set up in the Guardian Corps ex-hangars, having to return home soon enough both due to her work and because her doctors wanted to keep a close eye on her in her age and especially after the Fall.

The scientist, Dr. Kathryn Sanighte, roared with laughter whenever Hope suggested that perhaps she should take it easy, clapping him hard enough on the back that he would have been knocked over if he hadn't braced for it. For a small tottering old lady, she sure had some strength to her.

"Boy," she told him, voice wizened and fond, "You learn not to let things like age and the opinions of other people stop you from doing what you want to when you get older. The young are supposed to listen to the old, after all, not the other way around!"

Her dark eyes had been sharp when taking in his projects, clear and intelligent as he described all he was trying to do and his limitations.

"It sounds to me like what you're missing is the funding." She told him bluntly when he was done talking.

Hope rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm not sure it's that. I just…" he struggled for a moment to properly summarize what it was that was limiting him. The current level of technology, perhaps. Time, or cooperation. "...Okay, maybe a little. It's just hard to do this when I have to make the equipment, too."

She laughed loudly at the observation. "Blunt! But far too humble. Funding is always an issue, no matter what department we come from and just how many breakthroughs we provide for the government. It's a shame, really. Maybe if more people appreciated just what we do in order to provide people with their current comforts, we might stop worrying about funding." She stopped, and then laughed again. "But then again, that's not likely."

Hope thought to the Academy, and the ease he was used to when requesting the appropriate funding for different projects. He tried not to imagine that his influence might have come from his father's role in the creation of the Academy, but more because of how the Academy later on took over the role of the government. With the scientists deciding to intervene in delicate situations, it meant that funding was never an issue. Perhaps that was why humanity advanced so quickly over the years after that.

"You must not be afraid of causing waves." She told him in the hangar. "Don't settle for ripples. Someone like you is bound to be noticed whether you plan on it or not. Since you'll make a splash anyway, might as well make it one no one will ever forget."

He smiled for her then, drawing strength from her can-do attitude. It wasn't often he met anyone so confident and bold, and he wondered if he might have been able to find comfort in her words the first timeline had he met her.

After she left that day, with promises to return and discuss her research with him on a later date as well as introduce him to the team who was working on the current scenarios now that she was to step back and merely keep watch on the newer generation, Hope called Vanille up to tell her about the latest developments.

"It's good news, right?" She asked him cheerfully.

"It is," he agreed. "But how come I've never heard of her before? I mean, it really sounded like she knew just about everyone who's important."

"Maybe you shouldn't dwell on that," she told him quickly. "Things are different this time around, remember? Maybe we've already caused a bunch of changes."

"I suppose." He responded reluctantly. The more he tried to think about it (and he tried _not_ to), the more ominous of a feeling he got. There were other things he wanted to solve more, anyway. Other ideas and other options. Especially with the latest news… "Did you hear about those kids that set a hospital tent on fire?"

"I did!" Vanille enthused, sounding much more cheerful. "Isn't it amazing? I've heard Serah talking about magic coming back to people before, but what if it didn't happen here? I didn't want to get my hopes up, but this is amazing!"

Hope hummed his agreement. It had been exciting the first time around, and just as perplexing this time. The random development of magic within children who have settled in Gran Pulse was such a baffling event that even the Academy four hundred years in the future couldn't pinpoint who would receive magic and why. It had been agonizing the first time around, to see others granted magic around him and not being able to access it himself, especially since he remembered the feeling of fire between his fingers and ice upon his skin.

Even now, he missed being able to heal the injured, to knit bone and sinew together effortlessly. He missed the magic to protect and to strength, to heal and to defend himself. But the ache was far away, just distant enough that his voice didn't hitch when speaking of the 'new' phenomenon giving birth to magic within the human race again.

"Maybe we'll all get our magic back." Vanille suggested. "Not that I'm not grateful about being able to live, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Hope wouldn't know. From what he remembered, only Serah manifested magic after the Fall, seeing as he couldn't exactly tell what had happened to Lightning, and Fang and Vanille had been crystallized. He had lost the ability entirely.

"Maybe we'll be able to learn what causes it," he enthused instead. "Whether the condition is environmental or maybe genetic, or whether it's a threshold scenario where certain conditions must be met before anything happens."

Vanille giggled at him. "Good old Hope. If you're not careful, you'll turn it all into science one day. And then where would the magic be?"

"Readily available to the populace." He responded without missing a beat. "So that everyone can defend and heal themselves."

"It might make the world more dangerous, though," she warned him. "If everyone can throw fire around like those kids, there'd be a lot more injuries than there would be people who could heal them. It's not always the easiest to find a healer around, even if you learn how to do magic. Remember how hard it was for Snow to try and learn healing magic?"

He did. Vanille explained to him during their journey that it was rarer for people to exhibit healing magic than otherwise, and that while it could be learned by those who were determined enough, if the magic user was not predisposed toward healing, then they only never be able to reach the mastery that a natural healer obtained effortlessly.

"But maybe we could practice." Vanille suggested. "We've got far more experience than those kids, so we could teach them what to do."

"I doubt they'd want to hear about it from us." Hope shook his head. Likely those kids had lost a family member or friend to the Fall, or even to the pursuit of l'Cie before that. He doubted their help would be welcome.

"Well," she made a humming noise in thought. "I guess if they really wanted help, it wouldn't be too hard to find us. Or at least just tell someone that they wanted to find us."

Hope doubted that would work, either. Even if those kids did want help, which was slim in the first place, adults near them would never allow their children to go near a former l'Cie if they had anything to do with it. He just made an indeterminate noise that he hoped Vanille would take as affirmation or agreement to her statement, and let her continue talking.

"Serah and Snow are back," she informed him. "You might be hearing from them later. They haven't told anyone where they really went — apparently it's 'their little secret' or something. _And,_" and here she sounded huffy, making Hope draw back from the phone despite knowing that she wouldn't be able to actually reach through it and shake him. "We all saw your scores, which are great, but you completely forgot to tell us something important!"

"Uh." Hope's mind ran over everything that happened recently. Had Lightning told them about the crystal already? He didn't think she would, not when she was the one who expressly told him to take the time and think it over because it was his decision, and somehow his alone. "I… I don't think I did."

"Your _birthday_." Vanille lamented, sounding genuinely upset. "Your birthday _last week_. It was printed on your exam, too!"

Hope paused. Was it really that time of year already? He had been so engrossed in everything that had been happening recently, so busy with wishes and timelines and studying and tests that he had overlooked it entirely, measuring his life in days and weeks and projects. That happened frequently during his time in the Academy, but before then..

Before then, it had been his mother who enthused for weeks beforehand about his birthday, badgering him constantly with what he might want as a 'surprise'. His father was less obvious, usually needing some reminding before adding extra money to Hope's credit for him to get whatever he might want himself. His birthdays after the Fall were usually quiet affairs.

This time, it had been forgotten entirely, and it wasn't his father's fault so much as it was his own.

"I, uh," he stammered out, flushing. Of all the things to forget, he had forgotten that Vanille might get upset about that. "...I forgot about it."

"Your fifteenth birthday is important!"

"Well, I'm not technically fifteen." Hope protested weakly. "I mean, I've been fifteen before already. This would be the second time." And his fifteenth year hadn't been all that memorable, anyway. He had forgotten to think about ages, except for the fact that he was once again younger than the others where once he lamented upon growing older and older and eventually dying before he would ever see them again.

"Yes, but I couldn't celebrate it the first time." Vanille protested, and then gave an exaggerated sigh. "And I can't celebrate it this time either because you forgot to tell us!"

"How about we celebrate your twentieth twice as hard?" Hope suggested. "I mean… that one's been a long time coming, right? My birthday would have been the second time I went through it, but you must have been waiting for your birthday for a really long time now."

"Ahh…" Vanille sounded hesitant now. "Your calendars are really different from the ones from home, actually. We don't usually have… exact dates. Just moons, and those born under the same moon. I don't think you'd want a month long celebration."

"No, no, that sounds perfect." Hope insisted. In all his studies of old Pulsian culture, he had barely only begun to scratch the surface. The archaeological digs had been abandoned too soon for lofty future goals, and it would have been nice to go back to them. He wanted to learn more about how Fang and Vanille lived their lives; their traditions and history and stories. "We should do it. Set aside a whole month for your birthday. You deserve it."

There was an embarrassed pause from the other end of the phone until Vanille piped up, "Well! I should really get down _everyone's_ birthdays, right? Then we can celebrate for all of us! I think Dajh and Sazh are next, actually. Their birthdays are only a week apart, did you know? Then Serah, and Gadot and Lebreau… wow. Team NORA's all born in the same month. Except Snow. He hasn't told me his birthday yet. And we've got almost half a year to go before Lightning's birthday comes around again."

"Don't forget Fang's and your own." Hope reminded her, glad that she wasn't making a big deal out of his own forgotten birthday anymore.

"I'm not." Vanille told him. "But we're going to get a whole month, remember?"

Hope laughed quietly in response. "Sure. We'll celebrate all through the year."

"Mm-hmm." Vanille agreed pleasantly, and the both of them were quiet for a while as they went about other things, staying on the phone with each other. Hope settled into the small lab he was finally getting into a semblance of order, tapping lightly on the crystal that Yeul had given him. He would have to tell Serah would it sometime. If no one else, she deserved to know about it. She was the only other person who knew both Alyssa and Noel.

Just a little later, he told himself. She just came back from her honeymoon, after all. He'd give her a little more time to enjoy it.

"Hey, Hope?" Vanille finally asked again several long minutes later, and Hope made an inquiring noise. He could almost hear her smile from the other side, her voice soft and fond. "Happy belated birthday."

.

.

The following week was nothing short of hectic, reflecting a weather of constant rain and wind, turning the moods of everyone living in the settlement just a little more somber and dark. Hope made his way between his home and the hangar that Rygdea set up for him on a daily basis, getting up early in the morning before the sun came up (which it did later and later by the day) to make a simple breakfast for both him and his dad.

It had been years since he last did that… and really, he had only ever done that for special occasions in the last timeline, but things were different now. Despite all he had to do, Hope remembered how to felt to be left all alone. He also remembered more sharply the mornings of waking up to his mother's humming in the kitchen and her laughter as he fake gagged over her experimental recipes.

Even if his cooking was nowhere like her's, even a simple breakfast of eggs and toast with coffee was better than nothing.

"When did we get a coffee maker?" His father asked in bewilderment one morning when Hope stepped to clean up the dishes.

"Mrs. Twiledger bought a new one." Hope explained. "So she gave us her old one."

"Mrs. Twiledger?"

"Downstairs." Hope explained. The housing complexes were almost finished, and already people were starting to move out from the temporary apartments. While most avoided Hope when they could, they were more cordial now that they were about to leave for bigger, better homes. Some of them even started greeting him in the mornings when he left, and a select few would smile as well.

Slowly, ever so slowly, things were starting to get better.

"Huh." Bartholomew intoned, still looking baffled, although he curled his hands closer to the mug of steaming coffee. "That's very nice of her — wait, Hope, are you drinking it as well?"

"Uh." Hope paused where he was picking up the dishes, and darted his eyes over to the half finished mug on his side, sans any sugar or cream. While his taste buds still insisted it was horrible, he remembered ingesting coffee so often in the future that he never thought about _not_ drinking any. "...Yes?"

His father looked disapproving. "You'll stunt your growth."

Any other person might have panicked, but Hope already knew when his growth spurt would come in, and he had a long time to wait yet. He doubted he'd actually end up too affected by the caffeine in that manner. Dependence on the substance, on the other hand…

But then again, his father might be concerned over the fact that he hadn't grown any in the past several months.

"I'll be fine." Hope insisted. He already knew he'd hit his growth spurt around seventeen, and then another one at nineteen. He didn't mind that it'd be late, just so long as he didn't stay that short forever. "But won't you be late if you keep asking questions?"

He bit his lip after the question, smile dropping. It was a tactic his mom used to use to get them both to hurry up in the mornings, but…

Bartholomew glanced down at his food and nodded in agreement. "You're right. I've got a meeting in the hour…"

As his father hurried to down the rest of his coffee and make himself presentable for work, Hope set the dishes down in the sink carefully and wondered at the dull ache he still felt every time he thought about his mother. He doubted it was a pain that would ever go away, not when he had dealt with it for well over a decade already. If she were here now…

"I'm off." His father informed as he stepped into his rain shoes, work case in his hand and an umbrella in the other. "Remember to lock up and wear something warm before you leave."

"I will." Hope confirmed, and then listened as the door clicked shut as his father left. It took another half hour for him to clean up completely and organize the things he wanted to cover that day, before he looked out a window and saw that the rain had cleared up entirely. Instead, the clouds were clearing up to reveal blue skies and sunshine for the first time in nearly a week.

A good sign, he thought, before putting his raincoat away. It was still cold outside, colder than before with air that chilled a person's lungs as they breathed in, but at least now it was dry rather than wet even if the puddles on the ground seemed more like miniature pools than puddles.

While Hope had no fixed schedule yet, he still hurried out of the house soon after with his coat and scarf in his arms rather than on his person as he locked the door behind him and made his way out of the building with his nose buried in a datapad. Ever since he had gotten his exam scores back, he had been in near constant contact with various scientists from Eden University, some of whom he vaguely recognized as names who would later move their way to the Academy in order to continue their research.

He was halfway through the settlement before he remembered about the coat in his arms, reminded by his own shivering as the wind blew threw between the buildings. A sweater just wasn't going to cut it in this weather, no matter if the sun was out and shining or not.

Hope paused in his steps and shifted to turn off his tablet before attempting to slip the coat on, one arm at a time.

He didn't get very far with a tall shadow snuck up behind him and he turned, only to drop the coat and scarf (tablet and all) entirely in the mud as he was grabbed.

.

.

.

There were no hands involved, nor were there any softness to his treatment. It would figure, actually. Most people tended to stay away from l'Cie give the change, even former l'Cie, it seemed. Instead, Hope struggled against the cold steel of machinery wrapped like a vice grip around his arms and torso, cursing his blindfold.

_Focus,_ he thought to himself. Just because he couldn't see what was going on, or even really feel it except for the cold wind through the yarn of his sweater, it didn't mean that he was completely incompetent. The others would be able to find him, he knew, but until they did, he'd have to take care of himself.

Or even better, just get out the situation by himself entirely.

He could hear the distant voices of his kidnappers far away, the tone carried over only by the wind. They didn't sound very happy, and he couldn't make out the words, but there was shouting and anger and it was something that he could use.

Hope gritted his teeth as the machines jerked him up, his joints grating painfully at the whiplash. It was only getting colder, and he thought that must meant they were going up. A mountain? Up in the sky? Perhaps an airship, then. They could be heading for Cocoon, but the journey would take too long and then they would most likely be inside where it was warmer. At the moment, all he knew was that he was high up in the air and travelling fast.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. He had forgotten all about this dumb group of radicals, since in the first timeline he had been sheltered away from just about everything while they were popular. Now, he was throwing himself out to the world left and right and he should have _expected_ this to happen, especially since the group had been on the news lately screaming blame for the l'Cie and citing all the recent little flares of magic to be the fault of the fal'Cies' downfall. They condemned the innocent children just starting to sprout magical abilities, citing them as 'infected' and a 'blight upon humanity'.

It was the fault of the l'Cie, they spat in the news. It was because those accused beings were allowed to live and spread their evil ways.

And with all the rest of the former l'Cie safe in a large group in New Bodhum, Hope had been the obvious and easiest target.

He kicked out as the machines changed course yet again, but his feet met nothing but air. His skin was starting to prickle with goosebumps.

"Knock him out before he can use that evil magic of his!"

The shouting came from far below him, and Hope wanted nothing more than to shout back, or maybe just punch the speaker in the face. If he could use his magic, if he still had it, then why in the world would he have waited so long to use it on them? Given how high up they must be, Hope would have burned the entire place down if given the chance and access to his magic.

He missed being able to twirl flames around his fingers. It would certainly warm him up. Even better was if he had access to Alexander still. Then he would need to see in order to get out of this situation. He… he missed his Eidolon, really. It was ridiculous. Hope had gladly traded his magic and summoning in order to escape the fate of all l'Cie. He didn't have a choice, but it would have been the same decision he would have made if he had been given a choice.

Right now, though, he was starting to regret that his lack of magic.

Just a little bit, he willed to himself. If only he could access just a little bit of his magic…

His feet kicked out again, this time in frustration as nothing came to him. Where once he could have willed the winds down, summoned lightning, freeze and burn opponents as well as throw them into a watery grave, now there was just _nothing_.

There was a prickling cold in his neck, and Hope's eyes widened in protest, opening his mouth to yell, to shout, to insult… but then the world blurred and the feeling of metal around him slowly diminished. He tried kicking out once more, but didn't succeed with more than a twitch before he rested his head against the cold metal of the machine gripping him tightly, losing his fight to keep conscious.

.

.

It was dark. Still so dark.

Hope startled away, shivering and tense as he pushed himself up to a defensive position in one smooth motion, his muscles aching in protest at the sudden change. He was in a dark, dank room with water covering the ground for maybe an inch. His clothes were soaked and he couldn't seem to stop his shivering once he registered the cold.

There was a dripping noise coming from all around him like rain, except he couldn't see the sky at all when he looked up. It was just dark and he couldn't so much as make out a ceiling, but there must have been something because no matter how cold it was, it must have been colder outside in the dead of winter. He would have been passed out for a while, as his skin felt like ice.

Hope pressed cold fingers against his arms, rubbing to try and get some warmth back. His gloves were cut and torn and soaked, not keeping any of the warmth, and he had to pull with his teeth to get the leather off as it insisted on sticking to his skin. After he managed to get both gloves off, Hope curled his fingers together to blow on them, jaw tense with cold. His legs were stiff as he struggled to stand up, his limbs feeling numb from the knee down.

He tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings. The walls were made of stone, and there was just enough ambient lighting for him to make out outlines of things, although he couldn't tell where the light was coming from.

He shivered. The sound of droplets was getting to him. He didn't like this situation at all, not when all of it combined brought up sensations he didn't want to remember. No. He was still alive, so no matter the situation, there was still that.

There didn't seem to be any enemies nearby. He rubbed his arms harder, hugging himself tighter to preserve warmth, although he wasn't sure how much warm waterlogged yarn was going to hold for him. He still had his pouch, good, although the contents were waterlogged as well and didn't seem to be much use after that. His phone was dead, and while it was comforting to have his boomerang, the weapon would be of no use in a small confined space. He rummaged through the pack with increasingly numb fingers, trying to find something, anything, that might be of use to him.

Candy wrappers, napkins, keys, several credit chips, and then…

He fumbled at the odd object, only to breathe out the held breath as he realized it was the small crystal that Yeul had given him. He brought it up, the light within the crystal shining in the darkness, although the illumination did not spread far. There was no warmth in the crystal, but Hope could pretend as he held it up and close. While it had been a clear light when he first received it, dim but brilliant, it now shone a tinted green reminding him of his Eidolith.

His empty wish. Hope brought it up to eye level to gaze it at for a moment, but then covered the small crystal in his palm. He didn't have the time to think about it for the moment. He wasn't even sure how it would work. Right now, he'd just keep it on him and make sure the kidnappers didn't realize how valuable it might be.

Slipping the crystal back into his pouch after weighing how useful it might be to have the dim light as a guide or not, Hope reached out blinding with his hands, stepping forward slowly until he found an edge of the stone wall. It was rough and chipped, but smooth enough that there would be no way to climb up. He followed it, fingers trying to find an edge that would indicate a door.

None. The walls were round, so round that Hope was sure he came back to the same point on the wall in under a minute despite how slowly he was moving.

He shivered. He had to find a way out soon or he might lose to hypothermia before he could continue.

As if hearing his words, there was the distinct sound of laughter coming from above him, and he looked up into the darkness, squinting in attempt to see better. It was suddenly brighter as a light shone down from the top, and Hope yelped and raised an arm to cover his eyes even as the laughter intensified.

"Guess our little monster's awake." A young sounding voice called down, tone mocking. The person couldn't have been more than twenty, twenty-one at best, voice still breaking slightly. "How are you doing, monster? Cold yet? If you think this is cold, wait till the snowstorm hits! Maybe you'll freeze to death and end up a statue. Then we won't have to deal with you any more."

There was more laughter, and a more feminine voice who responded, "Ooooh, don't say that! Then we won't be able to play with the little monster any more. We might get in trouble — we're supposed to make an example of him, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. Ending up a statue's the best possible end for you, right? We wouldn't want that, would we? Still need to expose you and your friends for the _monsters_ you are."

"Maybe," Hope croaked back, his throat protesting as he called back, "maybe you need to look up a thesaurus someday, and maybe some brain cells since I'm sure the monster here is the people kidnapping others and throwing them into a hole in the first place!"

He was starting to adjust to the light, but it was still shining directly down, making it difficult to see anything beyond the light.

"Ha! He's trying to accuse _us_ of being the monsters?" The voice laughed, and then grew more serious suddenly. "Listen here, _l'Cie_. You can't fool us. Whose fault do you think it is that thousands of people are dead? That our homes are gone? Huh? Maybe if you dropped dead when you were supposed to, none of this would have happened! You should have died during the Purge, monster."

Hope swallowed down his anger, his shaking no longer just because of the cold now. The Purge had nothing to do with the l'Cie so much as it had to do with ignorant people who would rather massacre an entire city than deal rationally with a threat that wouldn't have been a threat in the first place if they only talked it out.

All those people caught up in the Purge… all those deaths. It wasn't just his mother. It wasn't just _Alyssa_. It was the crying of children, the smell of burning flesh, the screaming and gunfire and explosions and so many running just to survive. Those had all been innocent people. Every single one of them. There was no excuse that would justify the Sanctum's actions of purging the whole city over the presence of one Pulse l'Cie, especially since the war with Pulse ended five hundred years ago.

He bit down on his tongue to silence his protests, though. He had long since grown used to understanding the type of people who would listen to reason and the type who wouldn't. There was no use in wasting his breath on them.

"Have fun freezing, monster." The more feminine voice taunted maliciously. "Don't worry — we won't let you die. You still have to pay for my little sister's death. She was in Eden, you know? Killed by one of those monsters you brought in from Pulse. Maybe you should think about that. You think you can get away with it just because you're young? Well, think again. We know what you are. And we won't ever, ever forget."

The laughter was gone, and the light disappeared again as a loud thud echoed through his ears. A lid. It sounded heavy, like stone grating on stone. They had him in a hole and just put a lid on it.

Hope kicked at the wall in frustration, yelling a short expletive. Maybe he wouldn't have done so as an adult, but at the moment he was tired and cold and plagued with memories of fire and gunshots. It was freezing, but the cold was nearly forgotten in his rage.

How — how _stupid_. He hadn't even been kidnapped by soldiers, or anything of the sort. He had been taken by a bunch of ignorant, senseless _kids_. Granted, kids who were a good five years older than him, but—

He sat down in the water, unheeding of the cold in his need to stew over the information. It was difficult to reconcile the hate in this time with the slow acceptance that Hope had grown acclimated to. Was this what his father had been protecting him from all this time? The first time around, Bartholomew Estheim had been insistent on Hope getting personal tutors, on living in areas with excess security systems, and not leaving the house unescorted… and even then, only with a very good reason.

This time… Hope growled and kicked out at the stone wall, splashing water everywhere. This time he had been the one insistent that everything would be alright. That the others were doing fine, and therefore he would be fine as well. He had been too preoccupied with his plans to notice that there was danger around him.

At this rate… Hope rubbed at his eyes, willing the heat in them to leave. He needed his fingers and toes to be warmer, not his eyes. When Bartholomew Estheim died when Hope was twenty-six, Hope had thrown himself ever more into his work, this time busying himself with the Academy that his father built from the ground up. The doctors said it was exhaustion, over work, but Hope always privately thought that it was partially due to worrying over him for so long.

This time… just how much stress was he putting on his dad? First the accident, and now this, all within a handful of months. He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had been unconscious. A few hours, maybe. But certainly long enough for someone to notice that he was missing.

Hope felt a pang of guilt. It wasn't just his dad, either. The others all worked so hard on keeping him safe…

The first timeline, Hope might have been mildly irritated by the overprotectiveness, possibly from the fact that he was the youngest. Dajh, after all, would never have to worry about the hate garnered toward the former l'Cie, being a Cocoon l'Cie as he had been. His involvement had been kept secret, and even if it had been revealed, everyone would forgive a little boy burdened with the heavy fate of being a Cocoon l'Cie. At least there was that.

Hope would receive no such leeway.

He had to be the more mature one in this situation. He was _technically_ older, after all. Older than his kidnappers, at least. He had more experience on his side, more wisdom—

It didn't help. The anger felt like ice in his veins, along with guilt and frustration and layers of sadness and the feel of his skin going numb as it got colder and cold. He splashed at the wall once again, trying to work through the deluge of emotions before he could get back to rational thought again.

There was a curious sound as the water hit the wall, and a more curious silhouette that formed in the area. Hope paused, glaring at the spot before finally slinking out of the water to approach it cautiously, his elbows and knees now shaking from the cold. His socks felt like they were about to freeze inside his boots and trap his feet there forever.

He reached out to the silhouette, and then pulled back immediately as his fingers found solid form. _Ice._ There was ice on the walls. Was it really that cold? It certainly felt like it, but—

No, it wasn't just a thin layer of ice on the walls. It was actually a significant amount, enough for a foothold. He reached back out to trace it, pulling his fingers back fast as the cold started seeping into his bones. It was frozen over. It was the water he splashed on the wall.

He backed up a step, dumbfounded. Another shiver ran through him, and Hope raised his hands to rub at his arms again, wondering if he should just abandon his wet sweater. It certainly wasn't helping him at all, but rather gathering up and storing the cold instead of keeping in heat. In a split second decision, Hope pulled his sweater off over his head and let it fall into the water. After a moment, he decided to leave his soaked dress shirt and pants. At least he didn't feel so heavy now, burdened by wet yarn.

Now lighter, Hope decided to try again, kicking at the thin layer of water on the ground to splash onto the wall. Once again, it hit the wall and stayed.

_Magic,_ Hope thought in shock even as he traced over the ice with his fingertips. He looked down and suddenly lamented over the fact that there wasn't enough water for him to keep splashing onto the walls, not all the way to the top at least. But _magic_. That was something he hadn't witnessed, hadn't felt, in a very long time. It didn't feel like he cast magic at all. He was just… cold.

He shivered. Really cold. It didn't feel like he was casting. There was no semblance to the tingling feeling of power coursing through his veins, or any real purpose. That in itself was dangerous, as he couldn't figure out what he was doing or how he was doing it — or even worse, if it was even _him_ doing that at all. Maybe it was something else… the place? The situation? ...The crystal?

He didn't know. But it did mean an opportunity for him to get out… somehow.

He pressed his hand against the cold stone wall again, barely able to feel his fingers at all. What should have been sharp pains between the joints of his fingers were now dull and faded, which he took as a bad sign. If there really was a snowstorm heading his way, he wouldn't make it through down here. He needed to figure out a way out, and possibly with the magic, as soon as possible.

He pushed against the wall, willing the ice to expand.

Nothing.

Hope frowned, and pushed again, feeling the rough contours under his fingertips. Nothing happened, and he growled in frustration. He bent down and covered his fingers in water before pushing at the wall again. And once again, there was nothing.

Stepping back, he kicked again at the water, listening intently but there was nothing more than the simple slash of water against stone.

No, no, no, he couldn't have lost it already. Just what caused the ice?

He breathed out, trying to quell the rising panic even as his shoulders shook from the cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, hunched over and clenching his jaw hard to keep his teeth from chattering. Focus. How did he manage to do that before? If he couldn't figure it out within a set amount of time, it was better to go onto other options. But currently, he couldn't see any other way out of this hole.

He had been sitting in the water… had been so, so angry and so many other things. Hope closed his eyes, breathing in carefully before exhaling with only the slightest of shivers, his breath hitching. Cold. He was very, very cold. It was nearly all he could think about. He was so cold then that even his rage burned cold.

Distinctly, he could hear the crackling of ice, and Hope jerked as he felt something different under his feet. He tried to step away and found some difficulty until a sharp cracking sound gave way as he lifted his boots. He opened his eyes and gazed down into the darkness. Hope didn't have to see it to know: ice. The water on the bottom had frozen over.

Shoving down a mixed feeling of exhilaration and unease, Hope once again stepped forward and pressed a cold hand against the stone walls. While he couldn't see it, he could feel the freezing under his skin this time, the stone frosting over and finally turning to ice, spreading like veins along the surface.

He pulled back his hand slightly, willing the ice to follow. Slowly, ever so slowly, the cold continued after him until it formed a perch that he could safely grip, slippery as it was.

Taking a deep breath, Hope stepped on the lowest perch, the uneven ones formed by his splashing. He grabbed onto the top-most perch and pressed his free hand against the wall again, repeating the gesture.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he started making his way up the hole, although by the midpoint he had pretty much lost feeling entirely in his fingers and was grabbing clumsily and desperately _willing_ the rest of his hands to work, pushing up with his elbows instead when he could. He was breathing hard by half way, but the higher up he managed to get, the more determined he was. This was going to work. The more he was getting used to the ice, the faster the footholds started to form.

He could see the top more clearly now. It was a wooden cover, outlined in a rusted steel. It looked extremely old, definitely not something that anyone from Cocoon would have made. Something of Pulse, then. They were still on Gran Pulse, although the elevation had to be higher for it to be so cold. Perhaps they were closer to the water, just as New Bodhum had been.

He could almost… Hope struggled with tired limbs to reach up and brush his fingers against the wood, feeling the frost spread along where he touched. He didn't need ice there, but at this point the reaction seemed involuntarily. He just needed to… to _push_...

There was a noise beyond the cover, and he froze.

" —no point in watching over him like this. Might as well go get something eat."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll take over."

It was the very same voice that mocked him earlier, and Hope grimaced. He waited, shaking with both exhaustion and cold, until the footsteps retreated. He felt like he could fall at any minute, not because the ice was slippery but rather because his arms could give out any moment.

_Well,_ he thought to himself grimly. _Here goes nothing._

Taking just a moment to gather his strength and nothing more than that (he was growing weaker with every moment wasted, after all), Hope shoved hard at the wooden cover, just in case there was a height weight on it.

Luckily, there was nothing and the cover came off easily, pushed aside like it weighed nothing as Hope scrambled over the edge of stone and clambered out of the hole unsteadily, pushing himself up onto shaking legs even as the person there 'guarding' him started shouting.

"Oh no you don't," Hope croaked out, his voice barely there at all even as he sent as much cold as he could feel toward the person, readying himself to charge. He didn't have to, though, as the ground frosted over in white and ice spread up in a thick vice grip around the kidnapper's body, literally freezing them in place. Hope watched the young man's expression shift over from shock to terror quickly enough, and felt a dark satisfaction deep in his chest before he shook himself out of that and stopped the ice as it reached the man's mouth, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to call for reinforcements. He willed the ice to soften just the slightest. Enough for movement to breathe. The rest would melt soon enough in contact with his body temperature.

He could have killed him. He could still leave the man there to die, but as Hope looked up into murky brown eyes, terrified of Hope, he stood down.

He wasn't a l'Cie any more. There were entirely different rules to this game, and he'd leave that to the authorities, even if the authorities happened to by the Guardian Corps rather than Psicom this time.

He looked up in the night sky, admiring the shining stars for just a moment before his gaze was lowered. The ground was fairly even, and the area was surrounded by trees, although the place near the hole was clear of any obstructions for a ways. He looked back to the stone hole in the ground, the top looking like layered brick and forming a circle perhaps a little over two meters in diameter. Was that what he had been trapped in? It looked so much smaller from the outside.

"Where is this?" Hope demanded, despite knowing that the kidnapper wouldn't be able to answer. His feet stumbled, legs giving out from underneath him. He just… he just needed to sit for a bit, that was all. It didn't matter all that much that he couldn't much feel anything below his knees any more. He could see frost on the blades of grass around the area, and the wind was harsher outside of the hole than it had been inside.

Hope was just too tired to shiver any more, although he felt warmer now than before. Probably due to his climbing. There were several lights set up around the hole (a well, he finally pieced together, a memory from the future), and he reached slowly to grasp at one of them, the light little more than a chemically activated glow-stick.

He wondered what he should do now. It was fairly obvious that he was far away from the settlement, and that there were other enemies around. Even if the others noticed he was gone by now, they might not be able to tell where he was. He'd be on his own for this one. His grip tightened clumsily around the glow-stick. That was alright. He had been on his own for a long time. He could do this.

Hope stumbled to his feet again, wishing that there was at least a fire he could warm up by. But a fire would be too much light, would draw too much attention. He had to find his way out of here before reinforcements showed up. Preferably find an airship, or any type of transport.

Direction, direction…. He looked up into the sky, standing unsteadily. The stars were bright but offered no guidance. The trees around them were tall, but… he could see the crystalline glow of Cocoon, even if the shape was hidden from him. That meant he couldn't be too far off. He followed the glow, turning slowly and willing his legs to move. Down. It was closer to the downward slope of trees. He'd have to—

"Hey! You there — stop!"

Too late, and too late Hope caught the glimpse of familiar armor — _psicom_ — but of course those soldiers would be involved — before an explosive series of sounds forced pushed him toward the downward slope of trees, ripping through his side.

_Gun._ His mind warned him too late. _Watch out for the guns._

He landed hard, his back crashing against frozen wood and his breath knocked out of him entirely even as he slumped and rolled involuntarily into the dense forest, struggling to catch his breath and panicking as pain ripped through him. He could feel a crack, several cracks, as he landed on the frozen ground.

_My boomerang,_ he thought distantly. That didn't sound good at all. Moreover was the shattering sound, and Hope panicked for another reason entirely as he realized that the crystal Yeul had given him likely hadn't survived his fall intact.

He coughed, struggling to get enough air even as he pushed himself up with frozen and bruised arms. He could feel a wetness seep through the side of his shirt, burning hot. It was enough to snap his sluggish thoughts into attention, calling for one hand to press against his side immediately in attempts to stem the flow of blood, even as he hissed when his cold hand came in contact with the liquid which felt hot enough to burn his skin right off.

He struggled to assess the damage. It was to close to the edge of his side, less likely to be a deadly wound. Two inches off and the shot would have missed him entirely. As it was, the most pressing matter he had to worry about was blood loss.

_Not to mention shock and hypothermia,_ his mind warned him. That would probably get to him before everything else.

The situation felt far too familiar now. The cold, the wet, the blood, and the pain… Hope's mind flashed to his last memories before he died. Ironically enough, it felt like the exact same situation.

He could see the soldier in his sight, illuminated by light and blurred in his vision. The trees were hiding him somewhat, although a few more steps and it wouldn't be any more.

_No,_ Hope thought to himself. _No._ He could still fight. _Would_ still fight, even if it was with flimsy magic that he barely had a hold on. The cold would be to his advantage. He's use it to his advantage if he had to, freeze over the wound and shatter that soldier to pieces with cold. He wasn't some helpless child and he wasn't willing to be a victim or statistic on the page. This time, he'd get out of this alive.

Hope grit his teeth, and pushed at the ground with his other hand, willing the cold he felt within himself to seep out, the spread and climb and attack like painfully cold shards of ice digging into skin and sinew. He wouldn't die here. He would be just fine, and he'd make his way home and sleep in his bed with the heater on full and wake up thinking this was nothing but a bad dream. One of many bad dreams.

He could feel the ice moving, could feel it connecting with the soldier like an extended limb, could hear the startled shouts, disbelieving until the sounds turned into screams.

Screams and —

His eyes grew wide. It wasn't just his ice. Had it just been that, it would not have been enough to hold the man in place and the Psicom soldier would have surely shot Hope through the heart by now. Now, there was something else going on, someone else involved in the fight who was fast enough to barely be seen through the blur in Hope's vision.

A blur of blue and glint of something sharp, something large, moved through his sight as the soldier screamed and fell silent soon enough.

_What…?_ Hope tensed, readying the stream of ice running through his veins and willing his eyes to focus. Forget the cold. Forget the pain. Forget the clothes that were freezing to his skin. If there was a third party involved—

"Hope?" The voice was familiar. Shocked. Hope struggled to his feet, one hand still pressed tightly against his side and his expression grim and suspicious. The man didn't sound very old, perhaps around the same age as the rest of his kidnappers. Perhaps a little younger. Except the man called him by name.

_Who are you?_ The question was at the tip of his tongue, suspicious, until he finally registered the shocked blue gaze and the vaguely familiar tribal patterns. Like Fang's. Like Vanille's.

Hope inhaled sharply.

"...Noel?"

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* * *

><p>.<p>

So I'm back in action, I hope! o9 Finally moving this forward. This wasn't, uh, written in order. I had a really hard time getting back into this and people suggested I write something else instead, anything else, but I didn't want to stop working on this story so I took a prompt about kidnapping and just wrote until I got back into the swing of things, and _then_ I went back and did a quick transition. Oops. But any writing is better than no writing, in my opinion!


	8. Days22-24

Days 22-24

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The first flakes of snow were delicate and silent as they wafted slowly down the sky, melting immediately upon contact with the warmer ground below. Little flecks of white, so small they were nearly invisible, drifted down slowly from cloudy skies as the night continued on, the intense cold finally fading away as it all coalesced within tiny flakes of frozen rain to settle gently onto the land.

Within an hour of the first flake, the ground was starting to slowly whiten as the melted layer cushioned what came after, buoying the snow enough to allow it to retain shape. The sky was a gentle fall of white, bright even in the darkness of night, settling on leaves and branches as they passed under.

Hope wasn't too surprised that it would finally start to snow in this area now that he was out there. It did seem the sort of luck that he would encounter.

Better luck, however, was his newfound travel companion. One who had been able to heal up his wounds and was cursing the weather vehemently just as Hope was quietly, mentally, cursing his strangely bad luck. Kidnapped on the day of first snow. Well. At least now that they were clear of the trees, he could see they weren't actually all that far away from the settlement. Far enough that the walk back would be a pain, but not far enough that they would be stranded forever.

"It was just starting to get warm, too!" Noel complained beside him as they made their way down the mountain. "Still cold, yeah, but the rain was just starting to warm up."

Hope huffed out a quiet laugh, arms wound tightly around himself and shivering. At least he was still shivering, though. Once his wounds had been healed over, he once again discovered just how cold he was, much to Noel's worry. The younger — older now? — man kept throwing concerned glances in direction every few seconds, although Hope learned quickly enough to just feign ignorance to it.

The hunter had yet to ask what happened, and Hope wondered if it was because he was waiting for Hope to tell him first. If what Yeul said had been true… then Noel would have been from _his_ timeline. That meant this time, Hope was the one with the answers.

Except now Hope was the one who didn't know what to say. He huffed his way along the mountainside, his breaths visible in front of him even as he hugged himself tightly to stay warm. Luckily, his clothes had pretty much dried, although they were still the slightest bit damp and therefore didn't retain much heat. Hope wondered about how he must look to Noel's eyes: smaller, younger, yet still dressed as he usually was, just less formally without the uniform jacket and pouches and no tie to finish it off.

Still, Noel didn't ask about it.

"Just where are we, anyway?" The hunter asked instead, stopping for a moment to thrust his sword into the ground as Hope sat down on the thin layer of snow, needing a break. He was exhausted, aching, far too cold, and now hungry as well to boot.

"I'm not sure." Hope admitted, pulling his legs up to his chest and raising his hands to breathe into the circle of his fingers. His skin hurt from the cold, but there wasn't much he could do about that. The past week of rain meant that everything in the forest was far too damp to start a fire with. His eyes lingered over the lights of the settlement and he nodded down there. "That's where we need to get, though."

Noel looked thoughtful. "...That doesn't quite look like Academia."

"It doesn't." Hope agreed with him. "It's not Academia yet."

The flickering lights were still small in number, still weak and pale. In time, they would grow to be brilliant and strong, but right now it was nothing but a shade of itself. But it was still home. And it was the perfect tie-in to telling Noel about what was going on. Or at least partially.

Hope breathed out against his fingers, pushing away the cold numbness for a little while longer. He wasn't sure he would be able to do much for his toes anymore.

As if sensing his dilemma, Noel dropped down to sit next to him as well, pressed against his side to lend body heat and also whispering a spell for a magical flame. Without anything material to feed it, the flame wouldn't last long, but it was a welcome relief regardless to feel the slightest bit of heat. It made him almost jealous of the ease in which Noel could ply magic with a word, but he pushed that back. Magic had still come to his aid when he needed it, so now he just needed to practice once more before he could use it properly again.

"Thanks." He whispered, huddling closer to the fire. He wondered how he should explain this. What was the last thing Noel remembered? What would he need to elaborate on, and what did Noel already know? He could already feel the weight of the other's curiosity, and finally decided to just delve straight in.

"Academia hasn't been built yet." He explained, and then paused to think about his next words. "The Academy's still just a concept. It's still…" He pursed his lips. "It's still the first year after the Fall of Cocoon."

Noel didn't protest those facts, instead mulling them over for a bit, the blue of his eyes muted a bit by the firelight. "...But you know who I am."

"Yes." Hope agreed. This was where the explanation would get shaky. "That's because I remember what happened in 400AF."

Noel didn't respond to that, and Hope continued. "I don't know if this timeline is a paradox in itself, but everyone's alive here. Lightning is back. Snow and Serah are married. Fang and Vanille woke from their crystal sleep, and even Sazh is settled down to raise Dajh. Everyone remembers the future, but those are all… different futures. I don't know how I got here, but this was where I woke up after I—"

He cut off suddenly. _Died._

Even Noel was quiet as he asked, "So we would still be from different futures?"

Hope pushed his fingers closer to the fire. "...No. We're from the same future."

The future where Alyssa betrayed all of them, and Snow and Serah had left the two of them together to fend off a prophesied assassination. He wondered if Noel remembered that. Being from the same future might not mean being from the same _point_ in the future, after all.

Noel mused this over for just a little bit, the both of them keeping a watch over the magical flame as if flickered and danced in the night. He finally nodded to himself. "Okay."

Hope looked up at the young man, startled. "Just — okay?" He had expected further questions on where this was, what the others were doing, how he was there…

"Yeah." Noel responded, a hand rubbing at the back of his hair as he shrugged, looking away. He looked somewhat embarrassed. "You never questioned Serah and me when we told you a bunch of stuff that should have been unbelievable. So, okay. Right now, we need to find out way back to the city before more of those creeps decide to show up. Everything else comes after, right?"

Hope nodded dumbly, and then got back up to his feet shakily. It was true that there were probably more people who would come after them once whoever it was that was to guard him stopped checking in. Without a way of communication, they were practically stranded here no matter how close to the settlements they were. He would have worried that the cold would be the death of them first, but with Noel's magic, that didn't seem as likely anymore.

He looked up. The sky was murky with clouds and salted with the falling snow, but even he could tell it was pretty late into the night. While the sun set far earlier now than it did before, Hope had gotten used to the night hours mostly due to his tendency of working late as well. Never later than his father, as he made it a point to get home before Bartholomew Estheim tended to, but those hours were late nevertheless.

Already, the snow felt more wet than solid, and Hope felt that it would soon start raining and wash away the white fall that had taken so long just to settle on the ground. He shivered involuntarily. He didn't want to be wet again.

"You're right." He admitted wearily, and then looked back to see Noel getting on his feet as well. He wasn't used to having to look up so high to speak to the other man. It would be nice when he grew up and didn't have to do so anymore. "We can figure the rest out later."

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.

They didn't have to go too much further, although there was a close encounter with a rather large snow covered monstrous flan. Rather than engaging it in battle, the two of them navigated carefully around the creature and soon heard sounds of battle with what seemed to be pursuers.

Closer to the bottom of the mountain, Hope was able to make out an airship in the distance with its lights directed down below like spotlights.

"Maybe we should avoid those." Noel suggested quietly as they rested against several rocks, waiting for Hope to once again catch his breath and warm up a little more. He stopped using the magical fire once they were closer to other people, not wanting to give away their position. In the end, they tended to sit back to back to conserve warmth until Hope could catch his breath again.

"No…" Hope's response was low as he studied the far-off airship. There was something familiar about it, and the vague suspicion made him pay more attention to it. "I think that's one of Team NORA's ship!"

It would mean that the others had noticed him missing hours ago, and were searching for him. It was both a blessing and a curse, as it meant they wouldn't have to go all the way back to the settlements but instead just gain the attention of one of the ships, but also meant that the others would probably…

Hope winced. His dad had to be worried. That was more trouble, and more worry, Hope brought to him.

He stood up once more, nearly falling down as his left leg decided to give out from under him and insist that it didn't want to work anymore in the cold. Hope had to use the rocks they had been sitting on to push himself back upright again, kicking down lightly with a numb foot to get his blood circulation flowing again. It was Noel's hand tight around his arm which allowed to stay upright in the process.

"C'mon," he tried to sound more optimistic this time, ignoring the near fall. "We just need to make it to one of the spotlights."

Easier said than done on the mountain slope filled with awakened monsters and soldiers who were still looking for them. His boots weren't exactly made for snow, and each step was growing to be more complicated than the last, but that just made him more determined to get back to safety without further complications.

Noel didn't look very convinced. "If you're sure."

They stumbled through the forest between the half snow, half rain (mostly Hope stumbling. Well, it was _all_ Hope stumbling) with Noel stepping ahead every once in a while to scout the area and ensure that they were making their way around enemies rather than taking them on, mostly to Hope's insistence. It would only cause further complications to get into more fights at the moment, especially since the group of kidnappers seemed intent on painting l'Cie in a darker light.

It took another ten to fifteen minutes before they made their way over to one of the spotlights, where Hope finally gave up the ghost of his stubbornness and decided to just collapse onto the wet and muddy ground as he waited for the light to pass over him, barely managing the energy to raise an arm. It was likely Noel's enthusiasm on catching the ship's attention that actually got them noticed in the first place.

The airship landed quickly after that, and Maqui came running out from the cargo hold with an armful of blankets and so many words that he was tripping over himself verbally with questions. He seemed surprised by Noel's presence, but there was no recognition in his gaze. Hope had to struggle to get up from the place his legs had decided should be their final resting area for the night, guided by Maqui's worried words in his ear and the warmth of Noel's hand on his shoulder, barely there but ready to catch him if he fell.

An hour later he was settled on the couch of the tiny apartment, finally clean and wrapped in warm blankets with a large mug of steaming hot chocolate in his hands as he responded carefully to Dr. Cline's questions and prodding.

Lightning was in the room as well, standing in a corner with her arms crossed and her eyes closed, looking almost as if she were resting, but Hope knew better.

"You'll be just fine." Dr. Cline reassured him, although the words seemed mostly for his father's benefit as Bartholomew stopped pacing to pay attention to the conversation. "Just make sure to keep warm and no more adventures like this, right?"

"I'll do my best." Hope responded dryly, fingers sweaty around the warm mug. He felt far too hot in his blankets, but doubted shrugging them off would go overly well with anyone right now.

"Then he's…?"

"Your son is fine." Dr. Cline reassured Bartholomew, standing now that he finished his examination. The doctor looked tired and slightly disheveled, but as calm and collected as ever. "It's nothing more than mild hypothermia. Plenty of warmth, plenty of rest, and a few more warmed sweet drinks will do it." The man glanced down to Hope with a strained smile. "Once again, you are a very lucky young man."

Hope gave a smile he didn't quite feel in response.

"Thank you, Doctor." Bartholomew murmured, looking more relieved at the reassurance even as Hope glanced down at his drink again, feeling more than a little guilty for the entire situation. As the room grew quiet again, he could vaguely hear hushed voices from the kitchen where Noel and Serah were talking.

The airship which took them back to the settlement barely landed with the group of them just stepping foot on the ground before Serah caught a glimpse of the hunter and came running straight for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a shocked embrace as she started crying. It was nearly a minute later that she let go and turned her hug on Hope, who had been wrapped up and nearly choked by Snow on the interim.

Apparently Hope's coat and tablet had been found by a samaritan who turned the items over to the Guardian Corps, who hadn't known whom the items belonged to until Vanille tried to call him for their daily chats and got a soldier on the line instead. Her panic after that caught the attention of Rygdea, who in turn contacted Bartholomew and the search for Hope began after they found the hangar empty.

On Vanille's side, she told Fang who in turned got into contact with Lightning and she got Sazh to fly her over to the settlement immediately. Soon after, Snow and Serah got involved as well and they pulled on the assets of Team NORA as the sun disappeared over the horizon and the temperature got colder and colder.

Hope flexed his fingers around the steaming mug, feeling uncomfortable.

"—plenty of fluids for the both of them." Dr. Cline continued. "And as little movement as possible, at least for tonight. And while I'm sure it's not a problem, no alcohol or caffeine either—"

Bartholomew gave his son a very pointed look then, and Hope smiled awkwardly in response, shrugging.

The doctor left Bartholomew thanked him again, and the click of the door closing had to be the loudest thing Hope had heard all night, gunshots included.

"We'll find the rest of that gang of kidnappers." Lightning spoke up finally, her words for Bartholomew, and her blue eyes opening to reveal a serious glint. "This won't ever happen again."

"Yes," his father agreed tiredly. "Rygdea assured me of that as well. I should have seen it coming, but I… I suppose it can all wait until the morning. Everyone's had a very long night."

Hope looked up guiltily. "Dad, I—"

"It's alright." Bartholomew reassured him, cutting off the words with a raised hand. He then turned his attention to Lightning once more. "You are all welcome to stay here, although I'm afraid we can't provide much space. There is, however, an empty apartment just below us that I have been assured is still fully furnished. It's far too late for anyone to fly off so far."

"I may take you up on that offer." Lightning told him.

Hope frowned. As soon as he told the story of what happened to Rygdea, the man had left with sharp orders given to several fully armored soldiers to search out the kidnappers in the surrounding mountains immediately. Lightning arrived soon after, and Vanille had whispered to him that it was because she was the one who had been searching out the furthest of them all.

Now, Fang and Vanille were waiting with Sazh and Dajh in his airship, and even Team NORA had parked in the hangar Hope used for his lab, pushing aside some of his things in order to make space. It was —

He looked down again and swallowed hard. They were all there.

A part of him felt bad about inconveniencing everyone, especially when he should have been able to get out of the situation by himself. He was old enough. He had the experience, he had the memories, he should have the intelligence as well. All those years he tried to catch up them, and here he was inconveniencing everyone again. Another part of himself, however, felt a relief so strong it made his chest hurt. They were all there. They were all there for _him_. He wasn't — he wasn't alone at all this time.

"Then it's decided." Bartholomew stated, and then turned his attention to Hope. He hesitated for only the briefest moment before kneeling down to be eye-level with his son. "Hope. Get some rest. As Miss Farron said, you need not worry about this anymore. It won't happen again."

He knew that. Of course he knew that. And even if it did happen again, he would deal with it. That wasn't what he was worried about.

"You heard what Dr. Cline said." His father continued gently. "We'll talk more about this in the morning."

His protests were smothered with an involuntary yawn, and he looked back up to see his dad smiling at him.

"...Alright." Hope agreed reluctantly. He shifted within his blankets, getting up after a murmured good night to both his father and Lightning, pausing quickly at the threshold of the kitchen to murmur good-night to both Serah and Noel before hurrying on to his own room, closing the door behind him.

He collapsed into bed shortly after that, still tangled up in blankets but not bothering with ridding himself of them. They were right — it had been a long day and night, and despite being fine (which he knew he would be. Magic helped with that), there was a lot to digest. There was actually a group out there insistent enough on the death of the former l'Cie that they would carry it out themselves if possible. He managed to cast magic. Noel was back.

Hope closed his eyes, exhausted as he shifted his head against his pillow.

It must have been a good while later as he slowly drifted off that he heard his door open again, and then felt the weight of someone else sitting next to him in bed. A hand rested gently on his forehead, and Hope murmured a slight protest before calming again.

The presence stayed with him as everything went dark and silent.

.

.

.

The sun was bright when Hope woke up again, body aching and sore but otherwise perfectly normal for any other morning. He groaned into his pillow as the sunlight streamed through his window, pulling his blankets up over his head for several minutes as he dozed lightly, until he finally had to shove the blankets away and gasp for fresh air.

The cold air woke him up faster, although it also made him more reluctant to move from the bed, along with just how his body felt like it had been tossed through a meat grinder. He hadn't even felt that bad during and after the hunting trip with Fang.

It was only a glance at the clock in his room that prompted Hope to get out of bed, stepping carefully one foot at a time onto the floor to test his footing and just how badly his muscles were protesting. While the ache was mildly irritating, it certainly wasn't going to impede his most common actions. His skin still felt rather tender from the day prior, but as Hope checked a mirror above his dresser rather quickly while changing, he couldn't find not signs of any kinds of wounds or lingering windburns. As a pulled on a knit cardigan over his shirt, he paused once again at the mirror, and frowned at his reflection.

Pale blue-green eyes stared back at him in disapproval, framed by pale skin and hair that was perhaps a tad too long. He reached up and tugged at his bangs, trying to see where they ended if he pulled it flat down against his face rather than let it fluff up. They covered his eyes entirely now. He reached up and patted his hair down, frowning as the sides of his hair curled around his face. It didn't help that his cheeks were still childishly rounded with a light smattering of freckles that he couldn't notice unless he was actually looking for them.

He let go of the sides of his hair, his reflection turning nostalgic.

Not a year ago, Nora Estheim had laughed and laughed as she showed off her newly shorn hair, coming up to stand behind her son and rest her chin on top of his head, _"Hey, look at that! If you grow your hair just a little longer, we'll have the same haircut too!"_

He could remember her smile clearly, despite it having been seven months now… along with four hundred years. It was always comforting, if a little sad; gentle and memorable. There was just something about the way she smiled that always put him at ease, no matter how bad a situation.

He tilted his head slightly up and to the side, and stretched his lips up, attempting to imitate that smile.

His reflection smiled back, and Hope froze for a moment at the sight before reaching up and turning the mirror on its cord on the wall, until all he could see was the imperfect back surface.

Hope let out a shaky breath, and drew away from the mirror to finish dressing for the day. He'd have to get a new pair of gloves, and possibly another sweater. And a haircut. A very short haircut.

.

.

His father was still there when he exited his room, which was a surprise. Hope blinked, and then leaned his head back into his room to look for the time again. It still read after noon.

"Hope." Bartholomew addressed, putting down his work tablet. He was seated at the small table in the kitchen area with a cup of cold coffee and a plate with crumbs on it. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." Hope answered automatically; carefully. He thought for a second, and then stepped toward the kitchen area as well to rummage through the fridge. "Hungry, I guess."

It wasn't worth it to mention just how stiff his entire body felt. That was to be expected, after all. He hadn't forgotten about being thrown into a well and shot the night before. All things considered, he felt a lot better than he would have expected to.

"There's food being kept warm in the oven." His father told him. "Miss Farron — ah, Serah, she brought over breakfast this morning, but neither of us wanted to wake you."

Hope checked in the oven, and made a pleased noise as he pulled out the plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. It was far more than he could eat, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to finish as much as possible. He placed all of it on the table, and then pulled a clean glass from the cabinets and rummaged through the fridge for juice.

"Your friends Lightning and Noel left earlier in the morning." Bartholomew told him, sounding vaguely uncomfortable using such informal names. Hope only responded with a noise that he meant to be both sympathetic to his father's unease and an acknowledgement to the statement. "They said they'd be back later, although I suppose that means soon."

"Okay." Hope put the rest of the juice back in the fridge and made his way over to the table with his large glass, pulling the seat out to sit down. "I'm surprised you're still home, though. Don't you have important meetings at work?"

"I wanted to speak with you about a few things." His father told him, and Hope just nodded along, digging into the warm food. He learned long ago the difference in his dad's tone when he was serious and when he was _serious_, and it currently didn't seem to be the latter. "And did you really think I would just leave you on your own after what happened yesterday?"

That question made Hope pause and look up guiltily. "...I didn't mean it that way. I just — I know how important your work is to you."

"Never as important as my family." Bartholomew said, tone stern. He folded his hands together as Hope opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. "The work I've been doing lately… It's what I wanted to speak with you about. That, along with a decision I…" His father fell silent for a moment, looking conflicted as he adjusted his glasses. "I have always made my decisions on what would be best for you. But you're smart, and you're not a child anymore. The residential area of the settlements are being completed now, and I am at an important stage in my work, but… Hope. Do you _want_ to stay here?"

"Uhh." He hadn't been expecting that. He couldn't ever remember a conversation like this ever coming up before in the previous timeline. "I'm okay with being here?"

"I wanted to provide you with more opportunities here." His father admitted. "I believed… still do believe, that this place will provide better connections for your future. But this should not be my decision alone. I had hoped you would get into a good school here, that perhaps life would go back to normal for you, but perhaps that was folly on my part. Your friends all reside in New Bodhum… and Hope, if you feel that you'll be happier there, then I can do my work just as well there as here."

Hope found himself unable to respond. He just always expected to stay in the settlements. The place would eventually turn into Academia, after all, and that was the city he had grown attached to in the future. Not New Bodhum, not anywhere else. That was one of the reasons Hope hadn't protested moving so far away from his friends this time.

"Of course you needn't decide anything now." Bartholomew continued easily. "But seeing as this building will no longer be used for residencies soon, would would have to move to the residential areas. Or, if you would prefer, we can move elsewhere."

Hope breathed in, and then looked down at the warmed food, one hand tapping his fork against the stack of pancakes as he pondered the situation. "Does this have to do with the kidnappers?"

"I would be lying if I claimed otherwise." His father admitted. "Had you been with your friends, I doubt this would have happened. I hate to admit it, but perhaps their protection is more important than my intentions. But. Your happiness will the the deciding factor here, more than anything else."

In his mind's eye, Hope could see the gleaming spires of Academia. He could see the glowing lights, hear the bright laughter of children and shopkeepers calling out their sales. There were gleaming walkways and ships flying overhead, and the Academy headquarters stretching into the sky in a building as strong and majestic that it made Hope proud to look at it each time. The design he had submitted originally had been full of tributes to his former Eidolon, Alexander, as Hope wanted to make the Academy a fortress that would shelter humanity the same way his Eidolon had once sheltered him through the worst times.

Could he really leave that ideal, that future which he knew could happen, behind?

His father must have seen his indecision, as he tried to smile and reached over to pat his son's arm. "Think upon it. I won't ask for an answer today, so I expect that you give it some thought. But there is something else I wanted to mention to you."

"Is it going to be like what you just said?" Hope asked shakily, attempting to lighten the situation as he laughed nervously. "I don't know if I can make another decision like that on top of this."

"No, it's nothing like that." Bartholomew reassured him. This time, the older man cracked a genuine smile. "I wanted to share my work with you. My recent meetings have yielded positive results, and I would like your input and ideas."

With that said, the older man put down the tablet he had been working on, and pushed it slightly over so that Hope could see the contents clearly.

"I suppose the idea came after the results came in from the time you took the assessment exam for the settlement's high school." His father explained. "I wanted to create an alternative form of education that would provide quality schooling. That was the initial idea. And then Rygdea told me that you were using the old hangars as a place to build technology, and the idea shifted. I've been in contact with several influential people from Cocoon, and they've just recently approved the idea of a new academy being built on Gran Pulse. It's to provide a source of secondary education as well as continuation of research and experimentation for scientists to expand upon information found down here on Pulse."

The excitement for the project was clear in his father's voice.

"Well?" Bartholomew asked, still sounding enthused. "What do you think? There's a lot left to do before we can even start, and we need a name for it, but…"

"You should keep it simple." Hope interjected. He had dropped his fork to take a better look at the wording of the project his father had been working on, and was trying to keep his voice level. "I mean, it's pretty unique to the schools down here. Just call it by what it is."

"Hmm." His father hummed in thought, and then nodded. "The Academy it is, then."

.

.

They were still discussing the details when Lightning and Noel returned, their arms full with bags.

"The Guardian Corps has a lead on the kidnappers." Lightning informed them as she set the bags down on the floor in the tiny living room. "They've found several leads to people connected with this group, but now there may be something solid that would bring these people in before they can do any more damage."

"That's great," Hope tried to enthuse, although he doubted it would make the situation any better. Those who hated l'Cie weren't going to stop hating l'Cie just because some kids were caught being terrible. As optimistic as he wanted to be about people being inherently good, he also understand implicitly that should the kidnappers be caught and tried fairly, there would also be a good number of people who would see their actions as nothing wrong because it had been against a former l'Cie.

The only thing that could change the opinions on l'Cie was time, and reinforcement of the truth. It would be years before people started grudgingly accepting the fact that it had been the Cocoon fal'Cie at fault, and not the easily blamed l'Cie. It would be a long and bumpy road, but Hope also knew that people _would_ change for the better.

"I'll be going with the team to apprehend them," She told him. "But Noel's going to stay here with you."

Somehow, the situation sounded eerily similar to when Snow left the two of them together in 400AF. Not that he minded too much, but…

"I thought he'd be going back with you guys." Hope admitted awkwardly. "I mean… wouldn't Serah want him there?"

"She does." Lightning confirmed. "But she also wants you safe as well. And until we apprehend the kidnappers, both she and I would rather you not be left on your own. Fang and Vanille have also volunteered to stay, but they're in the middle of a project Vanille's been working on and Fang refuses to leave her."

"I don't think anyone should be left on their own right now, regardless of—" Hope flushed deeply as he caught his own words. Lightning gave him a somewhat smug smile, and he sighed. "Fine. Okay. I get it. Don't do anything on my own right now, seeing as I wouldn't want any of you guys to be on your own either."

"I knew you were smarter than you looked." Lightning quipped wryly. She smiled, though, and placed a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry. Sazh and Dajh will be staying with Fang and Vanille, and Serah's going to be surrounded by all of Team NORA until this blows over."

"And what about you?" Hope asked quietly.

"I may have picked the worst of the lot." Lightning said, rolling her eyes. "Snow's coming along with me. We'll see how useful he actually proves to be."

"Well, you're probably going to have to tell Serah he was useful no matter what since he actually _is_ your brother-in-law now." Hope joked, mood lightening as he watched her make a vague grimace.

"Urg." She said. "Don't remind me."

Hope laughed, feeling the rest of the tension drain away in that quick moment. Sadly, that lasted only a moment before his smile fell. "...I'm sorry."

"About what?" Lightning asked, and then shook her head. "No. Never mind. You probably think this is all your fault. Well—" She reached out and flicked him hard on the forehead, and Hope yelped, drawing back to cover the spot with his hands in case she went in for a second attack. "It's not. So get that in your head."

"Ow." Hope protested rather weakly, rubbing at the spot on his forehead. He looked up at her serious expression, and smiled faintly. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Not my fault those people are dumb."

It was the same with Psicom and the Sanctum when they had been running away from them. This affected all of them, not just him. It was just… hard to remember, at times. He was far too used to things happening because of him, and then having to take responsibility for that. But now everyone else was here as well.

A burden shared, huh?

"I'll give you a call this evening." She told him. "Expect the others to be on the line as well. It'd be easier if we could keep everyone together, but…"

Hope bit his lip, thinking of the what his father said earlier. Would it truly be better if they moved to New Bodhum? Then, as Lightning said, they might all at least be together and things wouldn't be as hectic. It might actually be better as well, as he would be able to physically see the others on a daily basis.

He just… didn't want to abandon the Academy. Even if it would form again, Hope didn't want to be the reason it was delayed or, heaven forbid, _failed_. His father was needed in the settlement in order to further the idea and draw more people on board, and then eventually the entire settlement would be so enamored with the concept that they would name the settlement Academia, in honor of the institution being built at the heart of the newly bustling city.

Then again, it was one thing to preserve the Academy. This was an entirely new timeline, after all. Was it really a duty of his to make sure that the one good thing that came from the previous timeline stayed the same, or was he supposed to change things up and make sure that no one would know how the future would go this time?

Well, no one except Yeul. He wondered if she knew what he would decide, and whether that would actually make a difference. He probably shouldn't ask her. It just brought his thoughts back to her dilemma, and her own struggle to survive in a world whose laws dictated she needed to die. He still wasn't sure how he could help her.

He wanted to go with Lightning, but was sure that she would refuse if he offered. He wouldn't be able to help if he couldn't get control of his magic back. He'd have to practice first somehow, and then make himself useful. Until then, the best he could do was to not make her worry.

So as she got ready to leave, all he could do was tug on her sleeve to draw her attention to himself for a moment.

"Um." He stammered out, feeling young and insecure all over again. "Stay safe."

She glanced down at him with an unreadable gaze for a moment before her expression softened. "Don't worry. I plan on it."

He watched her walk away this time, until she turned at a street corner and he couldn't see her any more.

.

.

.

Thinking about it, it wouldn't have been hard for those kidnappers to take him at all, seeing as Hope's path each day deviated little. He rarely stopped for long to speak with people, and tended to take the roads that were least populated he wouldn't have to to see the people who purposely changed sides of the street in order to avoid him. He used the same streets every day to get to and from the hangar, and tended to duck his head when walking near other people, looking down at the ground as he walked.

"That's weird." Noel told him bluntly as they headed out. He pointed back to the last turn they made. "Wouldn't it be faster to just take the main street?"

Hope pulled his knit hat lower over his hair, frowning. Habits were hard to break, it seemed. "...Most likely, yes."

Noel gave him a curious look, but refrained from asking further questions on that topic. He had claimed the apartment below the current Estheim residence, although he didn't seem too happy to be that far away. He settled in thanks to Serah's help, and Hope went down to visit as well before the pink-haired girl reluctantly left the day after Noel was settled, although she promised to be back once she settled matters with Team NORA and with her sister about not needing the protection of four people.

"Both Noel and I can stay here," she suggested then, clapping her hands together. "Since Snow's going off with Light right now."

She was back in New Bodhum for the moment, but seemed determined to be back before long. Hope couldn't begin to comprehend how much she must have missed Noel, although she looked happier now that he was back. Noel had been shoved with Lightning on a shopping trip to get him caught up to speed on everything that was going on, and with different ways to get into contact with everyone. He was now equipped with a comms unit along with several other gifts from others who had never met him before.

It must be strange, Hope thought as they continued down the street. Noel had met Snow before, but the timeline Snow had come from, the two of them had never encountered each other. It was the same way with Fang and Vanille, and Sazh as well.

The roads were wet from recent rain, and Hope wondered if it would ever snow again that year or whether that half a night was all that they were going to get. The hangar looked cold and dry as they approached it, and Hope fumbled a bit with the remote lock before getting the door open.

"Is this where you've been holed up?" Noel asked as he stepped through, glancing around. "Sure seems like a step down from last time."

"Last time had the best that technology had to offer." Hope protested. The Academy offices and labs had been a sight to behold, and Hope missed it quite a bit. Having to start from scratch without other people to fill in the gaps was harder that it seemed. "This is four hundred years behind what you last saw."

"Alright, alright, I get it." Noel turned his head to smile at him, distracted slightly from poking the components that Hope had taken apart and left on the workstation the last time he had been there. "It's impressive. That's what I'm supposed to say, right?"

"It's a bunch of scrap." Hope corrected, making his way to the main computer terminal. The past several months had barely made a dent in what he wanted to cover, and he was starting to realize just how hard things would go if he continued on his own. It was a good thing that the Academy was going to come in soon, and that the past two weeks had seen him in contact with the more brilliant minds Cocoon had to offer, although they were still cautious in their dealings with him. "...But it'll be something eventually."

"I believe it." Noel commented, and then leaned against the desk, waiting as Hope turned on the switches to warm up the machines, pulling off his scarf as the room gradually warmed thanks to Bartholomew's insistence on at least installing space heaters. "Is there anything you need me to do?"

Hope paused from where he was grabbing for a computer component, suddenly guilty. Noel hadn't had anything to keep him busy last time, either, while they had been waiting for the assassination attempt. The young man had watched and waited while Hope worked and met with his co-workers, keeping a wary eye out for anyone that might pose a danger.

"Um." Hope looked up at the hunter, who was staring at him intently. "You know this isn't like last time, right? We're just supposed to— to stay a bit together, but if they really wanted to kill me, they would have done it the last time they had me."

Noel frowned. "That's a threat that shouldn't have happened."

His words were more vehement than Hope expected, and he pulled back slightly in surprise. Noel had always been the easygoing one with quick observations and an optimistic attitude. Despite how seriously he had taken his task as bodyguard back in 400AF, he had also been upbeat and curious.

This young man, on the other hand, was slightly different than what Hope remembered.

They… _were_ from the same timeline, right?

"Well…" Hope tested the words in his head. "I meant to say thanks. For helping me out back there. I don't think it would have turned out as well if you hadn't stepped in."

Not well at all. Hope didn't appreciate being shot, and he didn't quite appreciate being stuck out in the cold, either. He suspected that the hypothermia would have been a lot worse without Noel there, and that he would have barely made it out with far more injuries. He didn't doubt that he _would_ have made it out, but without the healing magic, without the help of another human being, and without the extra warmth, Hope might still be bedridden from the escapade. He was sure that his injuries would have been far more severe, prompting his father to be far more overprotective.

Possibly prompting the others to be far more overprotective as well.

"It's what I'm supposed to do." And here, the young man looked away, but not before Hope spied the tightening of his jaw. "You need to be more careful. These things keep happening to you."

"Not as often as it seems, I promise." Hope protested, looking away as well. There was an awkwardness he didn't understand. Yes, there was that kidnapping incident, and then the accident nearly half a year ago and the whole l'Cie incident before that, but… well, he supposed there was the assassination as well. But there had also been many long years of calm where the most exciting thing to happen to him had been scientific discoveries.

He wondered how he was to diffuse the sudden awkwardness. He hadn't expected it, not with Noel, not when they had spent several days before with little to no tension before this. But maybe Noel didn't remember that — or the other man had been taken from a time before it. Hope wondered how much Noel remembered of Academia in 400AF, or if the young man saw far more of the timeline than he originally speculated.

Or maybe, a nagging voice in the back of his head suddenly suggested, he came from _after_ your death and remembers seeing the assassination succeed.

That theory made the most sense with the way Noel seemed to tense when Hope looked at him, and couldn't seem to meet his eyes most of the time. But it also brought up more problems that Hope didn't know how to deal with.

Everyone remembered his death, he thought guiltily. He didn't even know their timelines, but he could understand Noel's expression now that he compared it to the way Serah hadn't been able to look at him in the beginning as well, or the way Snow seemed to tighten his fists when he thought Hope wasn't looking.

Was this how it had been like with the others when he had been in that coma? Two weeks of them adjusting and settling to this new timeline while he remained asleep, oblivious to it all. This time, he was aware to witness Noel's reactions to this new timeline, and to Hope being alive again.

"I, uh." Hope snapped his jaw shut, irritated at himself for the amount of hesitation in his speech lately. He had once been far more eloquent as an adult, and yet the moment he's reverted back to his teenaged self, his speech was once again hindered. It was frustrating. It made him sound uncertain about everything, and he didn't like it, even if he _felt_ uncertain about everything. "How about… um. Do you think you could help me out with the power couplings here? I'd need an extra pair of hands to get this stabilized. And then we can call for lunch. I forgot to pack something earlier."

At the request, the hunter seemed to relax just the slightest, shoulders slumping a bit as he made his way around the desk. "Yeah, sure. Which one is it?"

Hope pointed toward the object on the table, and then watched carefully as Noel handled the glass delicately. He turned his attention to his work after that, adjusting pieces and fiddling with scraps until it turned into something that he might be able to use for something else.

Then he put his tools down carefully, wondering how he was going to phrase this. It was partially his 'fault' that Noel was here now, thrown into this situation unprepared. But then again, it was a good thing he was there, right? It wasn't a conversation that could be avoided, though, as it would just be left to fester. He should know, especially with the way he confronted Serah about the situation and the pervasive anger after that despite his best intentions to stay calm and work through the situation with a rational mind.

He closed his eyes briefly and breathed in. No holding back, then.

And from there, Hope started to explain what happened to him and his meetings with Yeul and Caius, Noel staying quiet through the story.

.

.

"So how did it go?" Vanille's voice was a welcome distraction as Hope turned off the space heaters in the hangar. The chill spread fast, hitting his skin the moment the heating was turned off. He was still in his makeshift lab, although Noel had retired outside for some air, staying just close enough in case anything happened but far enough for some privacy.

He hadn't been able to read the expression on Noel's face as Hope told him about meeting Yeul, about his theories, and about her shortened lifespan. If he were honest with himself, the one-sided conversation had probably gone… far worse than he anticipated.

"Okay." Hope answered, although the hesitation in his tone belied the answer. He pushed for space at the back corner of the hangar, foregoing the ragged sofa Rygdea provided 'in case of naps!' to sink to the ground, his back against the worn fabric of the armrest. He waited a moment, blowing out a breath and watching it slowly start to crystallize in front of him. The speed in which heat escaped the room should have been alarming, but after the incident just two days ago, Hope couldn't bring himself to be bothered by a little bit of cold, even if it was prickling at his exposed skin.

He pressed a bare hand on the cold floor to brace himself, the other still holding onto his phone. He still didn't like going through the day without gloves, but…

"At least, as okay as it could have gone, I guess." He admitted. "I can't tell what he's thinking at all."

Vanille made a sympathetic noise. "Well, I can't really say anything since you and Serah know him far better than me, but he seems like a very nice person. I'm sure he'll be okay in the end."

He heard some clattering on her side of the line, and she drew a sharp intake of breath.

"Vanille?" He asked, concerned. "What's going on? You okay?"

She laughed, breathy and light and perhaps a tad bit embarrassed. "Ahh, yes! Of course I am. Sorry, I just got a bit distracted. But as I was saying — it can't be as bad as you're making it out to be, Hope. Cheer up!"

"You dont know how bad I'm making it out to be," Hope grouched, hunched lower on the ground as the spoke, feeling for the cold of the smooth concrete underneath his fingertips.

"Yes, I do," she teased. "You're always prepared for the worst, you know. You talk about the best happening, but you always get this pout and glare going on when things don't go your way. Or even if things _do_ go your way!"

"I don't _pout_." He insisted.

"You do," she insisted, dragging out the second word with amusement. "it's okay. It's really cute."

"And I'm not _cute_." It seemed a moot point to argue that with Vanille, though, and he sighed in defeat even as she laughed at him from the other side of the line. He didn't think it would help if he argued that he was actually a lot older than he seemed. "I just… think I might have made things worse."

"Now that's just a stupid thought." Vanille berated. "Don't you think he'd be happier back here where he can see both you and Serah again? This is where we can make a second chance for ourselves, right? That's what you told me. And I'm going to hold you to it."

Hope huffed out a faint laugh. "Yeah. I guess so."

He curled his hand up slightly, fingers still touching the ground, imagining the cold coming up from the ground toward him. Nothing. He pressed his palm flat on the ground again, soaking in the cold, before trying again. Still nothing.

"What are you going to do now, though?" Vanille asked, and then hesitated. "I mean, after this whole kidnapping thing is finished. You used to talk about school, but you haven't said anything about that for a while."

He hadn't really thought about that for a while. Or if he did, it was in terms of the Academy. He wasn't sure sure he wanted to do his thesis on the Paddraen ruins and Oracle Drive anymore. At this rate, he would have to wait another year before the ruins would be excavated, anyway. He wasn't sure he had that sort of patience without deviating to another subject.

He wondered if the Oracle Drive still showed the end of the world.

"I figured I'd continue my research." Hope answered easily. "From the future."

"Oh." Vanille's tone was subdued. There was a moment of silence as Hope continued his efforts at reproducing the magic that he felt when he escaped that well, insistent that it hadn't been the crystal or extenuating circumstances. He had throw ice magic even after the crystal broke. There had to be _something_ he could do as practice. It was nearly a minute later when Vanille asked, "So how can I help?"

That halted Hope's attempts. "Huh?"

"I don't know much about what you're trying to do, but I can learn." Vanille insisted. "Everyone's working so hard and you're working so hard too even though — well, I'd like to help, even if I have to start from scratch. _Especially_ if I have to start from scratch, since it would take time to learn everything I need to know, right? I should start as early as possible."

"Vanille…"

"You're not a child, I get it. Well, I'm not one, either. And I want to help, even if it's just — just carrying boxes around, or holding things. Hope, I've got something to finish up here, but afterward, if you need any help at all, we can go to where you are, you know. I don't like having you so far away while the rest of us gets to stay together. We're family, and families stay together."

She seemed to catch herself on the last word, and laughed lightly, nervously, over the phone. Hope felt his heart warm despite her obvious embarrassment, and despite being reminded that the choice to move was up to him.

"I can't speak for everyone else," She told him, a little hesitantly, "But I like the settlement. The wildlands surrounding it are really nice, and it doesn't take too long to get to the Archlytte Steppe from there. New Bodhum is a lot like Oerba, so it feels a lot like home most of the time, but… I wouldn't mind living in the wildlands. I just… I don't like the thought of you being there by yourself. Especially not with those bad people around."

"I'm not by myself." Hope assured her, voice warm. "And it's not just because my dad and Noel's here, too. You guys are here, even if you're far away. I've been talking to you everyday. It's—" It was so much different than before, when Hope had no one to really talk to. When his dad was busier than ever, and he buried himself entirely in his studies. This time, he felt like he was doing better. Reaching out. "It's not bad. But it'd be great to get some help. I mean, you'd be a _great_ help if you don't mind."

It didn't matter that he wasn't sure what to do or which direction to go in yet. Just Vanille's presence was a great boon to him.

"Really?" Now Vanille's tone warmed as well. "I'm glad."

"What are you working on?" Hope asked instead, "You said you had something to do still."

"Oh! Oh, it's not that big of a thing, really. But I brought Bhakti back and his components are so old there's nothing I can find that's compatible with him…"

.

.

Noel returned after Hope's phone conversation with Vanille was over, having taken the time to think things through outside.

"You know where to find Yeul," Noel stated grimly. "And I— I need to talk to her. I need to ask her what's going on. If this is what she meant to happen all along."

Hope couldn't fathom travelling up and down the timelines like Serah and Noel did. He had only been able to go in one direction, no matter how 'miraculous' the gravity well had been acclaimed as. He wondered a bit at Noel's origin, to have come from the end of the world, to know exactly what was going to happen in the end, and then going back to change the past. He wondered at Noel's connection to Yeul, to be so immersed in Farseer traditions.

Instead, he pushed himself up from where he was sitting previously, and nodded in agreement. If that was what Noel needed, then it would be easiest to do just that.

"Okay." He said easily. "Then let's go ask her right now."

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* * *

><p>.<p>

I keep forgetting to put it down here, but an optional part of the original prompt was for this to be a continuation for another story I wrote, _When Skies Are Grey_, which I just realized that I never put up on fanfiction . net. It's, uh, on AO3 and pretty much how Hope died before this story started. But then again, you really don't need to read that to go on with this story. I'm pretty sure this story won't end with pairings, though. I like my big dumb l'Cie family a lot. Also - much love to the reviewers who kick me back on gear when I start wandering away from this story! 3


	9. Days25-27

Days 25-27

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The phone number Hope had been given connected easily enough, but the ringing continued for a minute before Hope hung up again, frowning. He shook his head a negative to Noel when the young man perked up, and then tried again.

Once again, the call connected but did nothing but ring.

"Maybe she's not at the phone." Hope suggested lightly after three more calls throughout the hour didn't go through. "She could be doing something else right now."

He used to have a habit of turning off his comms, although those were usually while he was in a meeting back in Academia, and then Alyssa tended to handle his calls and filtering through what needed responses and what didn't.

"We could try again later." Hope suggested, although he had an uneasy feeling. For someone who could see the future, wouldn't Yeul have known that he was going to call? But then again, one call must be insignificant against the rest of history and large decisions that would impact mankind for centuries on end. It would be arrogant of him to assume his call was that important.

"Yeah." Noel's response was just as uneasy, although the brunet straightened up after that, determined to push the matter out of the way for now. "What else do you need done right now?"

"Uhh…" Hope looked around at the lab, and then shook his head. There was nothing of urgency at the moment, and still several things he needed before he could truly continue with his experiments. He had several letters to send, but that wasn't something he felt the other man would want to sit through at the moment. Hope could send the messages at a later time, although he didn't want to put it off for too long. "There's nothing urgent right now."

Had he been back at the Academy, Hope could have always found something else to busy himself with. At the moment, though, he had limited options and limited technology for what he wanted to do. The most urgent matters would likely be the kidnappers that Lightning and the Guardian Corps were taking care of, or the decision that his father gave him. Perhaps figuring out a direction for himself soon as well, seeing as he wanted to give Vanille a solid answer some time soon the next time she asked what she could do to help.

He thought for a moment, wondering if it was a bad idea… "We could go looking for the kidnappers."

They couldn't be that low-profile, after all. He had seen their statements on television, or at least he thought that was the same group. A group of young people backed up by the Sanctum that might be close to the settlement? It couldn't be _that_ hard to find them. Even Rygdea had more than a few leads to start out with.

"No." Noel's answer was quick, surprising Hope. "That's just looking for trouble. You're supposed to be keeping safe."

It was reminiscent of the words Noel told him back in 400AF, and Hope bit his lip. Maybe it was because he had several months to recover from the memories of dying, but it didn't feel as sharp anymore. At least, the nightmares had long faded and what seemed more prominent on his mind was the actual kidnapping.

"Fine." Hope admitted, drumming his fingers on the table. He tapped at his main computer terminal, bringing up several programs that he rerouted recently, typing in several commands. Several commands later, he used his phone to hook up to the communications mainframe. "I'll have this continue calling every half hour, and if the call goes through, then I'll get it on my phone."

He disconnected his phone after that, nodding in satisfaction. That would take care of one angle.

"Why don't we get you acquainted with the settlement?" Hope asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. "That way, you know your way around here. It's nothing like Academia right now. A lot of the streets are being replaced, and the permanent ones are just being put in, so this place changes almost every week."

Noel looked like he was considering it. He finally nodded slowly. "...Alright."

Hope turned off the rest of his monitors and machines, wrapping up his scarf and pulling on his outer jacket once again. Noel had been given an all new wardrobe as well on the day everyone had been there, and Hope couldn't help but glance up at the knit wooly pom-poms dangling from Noel's hat, biting his lip to prevent a smile. Serah must have gotten that for him and insisted that he wear it, but the addition to his attire, the rest of which was more somber and just suited for the weather rather than for fashion, somehow made Noel look the teenager he was.

"What?" Noel asked curiously, noting Hope's look.

"Nothing." Hope responded quickly, shaking his head. He pulled his tote bag over his head, dragging along the tablet that kept track of his work progress. "Okay. Where should we start?"

The next two hours had them travelling all over the growing city, from the back alleys to the prominent buildings which signalled where all the permanent structures would be put. So far, the settlements had a tall hospital and city hall, two buildings for schools, and Guardian Corps headquarters within the settlement, and the new buildings which were still being touched upon that held the new technology for power and water. The people of Cocoon had spent so long relying on the fal'Cie for power that the concept for farming power for themselves was both and entirely new and too-old concept.

There were still large plots of land that weren't being used, and the residential areas were being built as well, complexes and housing units that would be more separate and more comfortable than what was provided for the people in the temporary housing. Hope looked for the place he had settled into in the first timeline, an unsuspecting unit at the very edge of the settlement closer to the Guardian Corps which Bartholomew had beefed up the security for. It wasn't entirely done yet, but the outer shape and structure was already in place. It looked like it would be merely weeks before the place was finished.

That would be how long he had to decide whether he wanted to follow the original timeline or deviate from it completely, then.

"And what about there?" Noel pointed in the direction where the Academy building had once been for the both of them. There were several buildings on that land, but Hope only shook his head.

"That place is going to be demolished and built over." He explained. "There were a lot of temporary structures set up when people first started settling on Gran Pulse. A lot of homes in Cocoon were completely destroyed, and the land unusable. People needed land to settle on, and Pulse is abundant in land if nothing else. It started with tents and trailers, but soon the government set up structures that would be able to tide people over until more permanent buildings could be put up. That's a part of it, and so's the building that we're in right now."

Noel made a sound of acknowledgement, squinting over at the land where the Academy was to be built, squinting just slightly as the sun started hovering over the edge of the horizon. "...I thought that looked a bit shabby."

Hope shrugged, smiling. "It's not so bad. Might not look like much compared to the future, but it's just the start of it."

They wandered around the streets for a bit longer, enjoying the rest of the sunlight as Hope pulled his hat lower over his face again when someone looked in his direction. He looked down at the ground, a mixture of pavement and mud at the moment depending on what street they were on, and couldn't wait for things to change for the better. It was easier this time, knowing that it _would_ be better.

But did he want to keep going down the same path, or go on a different one? This was a guaranteed success, but moving to New Bodhum…

No. He wasn't that important in the scheme of things. Where he grew up should matter. If mankind was going to be more accepting in the future, then they would be more accepting in the future no matter what path Hope decided to take. That much he believed in.

"Hey, Noel?" Hope asked as they both ended up sitting at the top of the temporary storage buildings currently in place what would be the Academy headquarters in the future. The building was five stories high, and it had been a bit of a pain getting to the roof, but the view was rather nice. The sun was already starting to set despite how early it was in the day still, and it was cold enough that Hope could see the lightest of breaths in front of himself, but at least it had stopped raining for the day, and the slanted roofs were dry thanks to the sunlight that day.

The hunter made a noise in acknowledgement, having laid down on the roof staring up at the sky with his arms under his head. Hope sat a little ways away, bracing himself with his arms and swinging his legs over the edge of the roof. They were high enough that no one should be looking up at them.

Hope looked up as well, watching the thin white clouds pass by slowly overhead.

"...How do you access your magic?"

Noel turned his head to look at him, curious for a moment. "...By using magic? I don't know, why?"

Hope didn't meet his eyes, instead continuing to gaze up at the sky, although he wasn't quite looking for anything in specific. He used to be a magic user. He used to be _good_ at it. Good enough for the others to rely on him for support, for back-up, for healing and defense and magical offense. Hope had never been very good at fighting physically, although he made sure to be able to hold his own when he grew up. He was decently fast, and took pride in his aim.

But the thing was, he never found anything else he was as good at after magic. He worked hard at everything else, struggled immensely through studying and practice and repeated actions. He was well aware that he would never be as good a fighter as Lightning or Fang, or even Snow for that matter. But his magic had been instinctual once upon a time. If there was a single good thing about being a l'Cie, it might have been the magic. It had been the first time in his life Hope felt _powerful_ in one aspect.

Losing it had been a joy at first because it meant losing everything else that came with being a l'Cie, or more specifically the timer counting down on his life.

But as time went on and others began developing magic, Hope had often wondered just what was wrong with him that he couldn't weave fire around his fingers again. When no one else could use it, he had been content without it. But knowing that others _could_ use it, and bearing the knowledge that he had once been so _good_ at it…

He wondered if he was being power-hungry. But the feeling of ice over his skin had been a welcome relief in contrast to the helplessness when he had been trapped down in that well. As cold as it had been, as cold as _he_ had been, it was the sweetest feeling he had in a while.

He stopped swinging his legs.

"I think I lost mine." Hope admitted. "I don't think I have magic without being a l'Cie."

It was the first time he admitted that aloud. Before, he had always taken it in stride and tried not to let it bother him.

"What do you mean?" Noel asked curiously. "I've seen you use magic. Or manadrives? Sorry, I didn't think you were using a manadrive. Not entirely sure how those work and all…"

"I wasn't." Hope confirmed. "I don't use those."

Mostly because it was a weak imitation compared to the power he used to wield.

Noel shifted. "You threw ice at that guy."

The night of the kidnapping. Hope nodded, his eyes still focused on the sky. "That's why I wanted to ask you. About magic, I mean. I was sure that I lost mine, and I could never get it back while I was growing up. It just— never came back to me. But maybe I've been doing it wrong. It worked again two nights ago, but I don't know why. And I can't seem to reproduce the results."

He spent countless quiet minutes in his room attempting to call upon his magic again. Any spell. Anything at all that would indicate he still had access to the part of him that once made him feel confident in his own abilities.

"What, you think you've been doing it wrong all this time?" Noel hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. I don't know how it feels like to use magic as a l'Cie. I mean, I just _do_. I kind of grew up with it. You could either use magic or you couldn't, and there wasn't any, I don't know, any in-between. I never really thought about it."

The uncertainty seemed unusual coming from Noel, and Hope breathed out a long breath, finally tearing his gaze from the sky. "It was just a long shot, I guess."

"Maybe you should ask Snow." Noel suggested. "He had to become a l'Cie to get his magic back again, right? So he'd know something about it."

Hope didn't think so. If he couldn't feel the magic, he doubted the Snow would have been able to either. Likely, the blond needed the l'Cie brand not just for magic, but for the enhanced strength provided to l'Cie, and the ability to bypass what seemed impossible.

He wondered if Fang and Vanille still had access to their magic. If they did, they never showed it or even spoke about it, which would have been unusual since he and Vanille conversed greatly on the subject of magic.

The only person he knew for sure retained their ability to do magic had been Serah. But how?

Serah hadn't gone on the same journey they had; she likely hadn't battled with her magic to develop it, or trained it to take down monsters that she would have otherwise been unable to defeat. Yet she retained her magic while the other l'Cie all seemed to have lost theirs. Why?

Hope's theory had been because Serah never learned to use magic like the rest of them. The other Pulse l'Cie had trained themselves to use magic in battle, to provide and heal and strengthen themselves. They had all immersed themselves in their l'Cie magic, even Fang and Snow who relied little on it. But Serah had never been in the same battles while she was a l'Cie. Could it have been that the magic did stay with them, but changed form after they lost their brand?

He tried studying it before, just a little, claiming a side hobby in the Academy. But even in the future, no one quite understood just where the magic came from.

But if the l'Cie had trained themselves to interact with magic a certain way, it could mean that it would be harder for them to access the magic that came after the Fall, since they were so accustomed to their l'Cie battle magic. If Hope did still have his magical reserves, then he would automatically reach for it the same way he had while he was a l'Cie, and if that path was blocked, then it could be possible he just assumed he lost the ability.

What if all the former l'Cie had access to their magic, but just never knew?

"I don't think Snow would know." Hope admitted. If anyone, he would have to ask Serah, but she would be in the same boat as Noel. She might not know just how to felt to cast magic as a l'Cie, and therefore be unable to tell the differences necessary to cast now.

He stretched out a hand against the sky, grasping at the clouds.

"I was sure I lost my magic." He whispered to himself.

"Well," Noel said next to him. "I don't think you did."

The young man sat up, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before getting into a crouch next to Hope.

"I think you might just need some practice. I saw you using magic. You didn't lose it, Hope."

Hope nodded slowly. "I'll work on it."

"That's the spirit." The young man said cheerfully, reaching punch Hope's shoulder lightly. "I'll help if I can. Not sure how I can describe reaching for magic, but hey, if you're going to try then I'll try, too."

Hope smiled. "Thanks, Noel."

He was about to say more, but was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. Hope blinked, and the reached to grab at it, wondering just who was calling this time. Lightning usually reserved her calls for later in the evening, and he already spoke to Vanille that day, so…

"Hello?" He asked, phone against his ear. "Who's this?"

There was breathing on the other side for a long moment, steady and strong, before a familiar deep voice answered him. "You called."

_Caius._

Hope scrambled up from his perch on the edge of the roof, and Noel reached out a hand in case he lost his balance. "Yes. I have — Noel's here. We need to talk to Yeul."

He wasn't sure how to feel about speaking to Caius of all people, especially knowing that it had been Caius who fought against Lightning in Valhalla, and who was trying to end the world. It was strange knowing that Noel and Serah had been fighting against _Caius_ in the timelines they went to in the future, but here the man was now, sounding almost cordial on the phone.

There was another pause.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment." Caius told him, and Hope detected something dark about his tone that had nothing to do with the breathy manner he spoke in the first place. "She left you what she could, and you're not to contact her again."

"Why not?" Hope demanded. "She's the one who left me with this number. Why are you answering for her?"

Noel was making wide gestures from the side, likely asking what was actually going on, but Hope only shook his head at the moment.

"She entrusted you with a task. Are you close to completing it?"

"She wasn't very specific." Hope insisted. "I don't even know where to start. She would, though. If I could just talk with her, then I might be able to get it done faster."

"Damn it, Caius," Noel finally spoke up next to him, having figured out who was on the other side of the line. "Let me speak to Yeul!"

Caius laughed darkly from the other side of the phone. "Perhaps you should give the phone to your… companion."

Wordlessly, Hope handed over his phone to Noel, who snatched it up. It didn't matter who got answers, so long as they got answers. And if Noel was the one that Caius would allow to speak to Yeul, then it was just as well. Hope didn't mind having to speak through the other man.

"Caius." Noel's tone was just as dark, although with more familiarity than Hope expected. "Why won't you let me talk to her?"

There was a low murmur on the line, likely Caius's answer. Hope couldn't hear the specifics, but he could see Noel growing paler as Caius continued to talk.

"What?" Noel asked breathlessly, bright blue eyes wide as he took in what the man said. Hope pushed himself up further on the roof, tense as he waited to hear what the conversation was about. "What do you mean — you can't just leave me with that!"

Another long moment as a voice murmured words over the phone, and finally there was a click before it was hung up from the other side.

"What did he say?" Hope asked, fingers tensing against the cold rooftop. "Does he want us to actually meet them in person?"

Noel was looking down at the phone, bangs mostly obscuring his expression. He took a deep breath, and Hope waited.

"No," Noel finally answered, sounding shaken. "We can't speak to Yeul because… because she's dead. She died two nights ago."

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The retired back to the housing units in the dark after that, the both of them quiet. Hope wanted to ask more on the topic, but it didn't seem the right time.

_Yeul was dead._ It didn't seem to register. He recalled the surreal green eyes on the little girl he had seen, about her knowing expression and breathy voice. She didn't act the age she looked, but despite how mature she was, she was just a little girl. Far too young.

He couldn't recall any articles about accidents or fatalities that described a little girl in the past two days.

_How could it have happened?_

Hope wasn't surprised to see that this father wasn't home yet when he got back. He flicked on the lights, and stepped out of his wet boots.

"Are you staying for dinner?" He asked Noel quietly, shrugging off his coat. "Dad's not going to be back for hours yet."

The young man was pale ever since the phone call, and even now looked vaguely lost. Hope wondered once again just what the connection was between Noel and the Seeress of Paddra, but decided against asking. Even if he were to eventually find out, now was not the time.

Noel took a while to think about it, but eventually nodded. "If you don't mind."

Hope closed the door after the other stepped in. Thankfully, the heating unit was working again and the warmth was a blessing after a day of wandering around in the cold. Hope threw his coat and scarf on the couch in the living area, Noel following suit in his footsteps even as Hope finally pulled off his hat to throw down as well.

He wondered what to tell Lightning when she called. She would want to know, but…

Hope wandered into the small kitchen, and pulled open the fridge door, looking for something he could make for dinner.

It didn't sink in. He should have an easier time accepting the death, but it just seemed… strange. Millions of people died in the Fall, and while Hope had grieved for them, grieved with all the survivors, that felt different. Even his own personal losses felt different.

For some reason, Yeul's death felt… Somewhere between a statistic and something that would personally affect him. Like it was expected. Except he hadn't expected it at all, had he? He had known that the Seeress of Paddra died young, but he never figured it to be… that young.

Or it was an accident. An accident they didn't cite in the news.

No, that wasn't it. The strange thing was how Caius sounded over the phone. He didn't sound like he was grieving. Or at least, if he did, he sounded exactly the same as when Yeul had been alive. The man sounded like he expected it. Perhaps a bit angry, but not… shocked, or surprised. It was like he had already known, but couldn't help being bitter about it after the fact.

"Hope?" A hand pushed the fridge door shut, startling him out of his thoughts. Noel was giving him a curious look. "You've been staring inside the fridge for a long time now."

"Ah." Hope looked down, slightly embarrassed. He hadn't meant to get so lost in thought. "I didn't— Do you mind if we just ordered out?"

He shouldn't be the one distracted by this now. Noel was the one who probably knew Yeul better than he did. He was the one who was grieving, and who sounded like he knew Caius as far more than just an enemy to be fought. Right now, Hope should be helping Noel get him mind off things and not the other way around.

"That's fine." Noel shrugged, deceptively calm about everything. The older teen left him to his thoughts again, heaving back toward the living area as Hope busied himself pulling out the house terminal to order for something. A few swipes of the holographic interface and he shut it off again, pausing.

He knew, of course, that words of comfort didn't make anything better. Not when it came to death.

Hope ended up rummaging through the cupboards for packets of hot chocolate that had been left over from two nights ago, boiling the water and stirring the packets in. He took both mugs out to the living area, and offered one to Noel before sitting down next the other.

They waited there silently for the food to arrive, both lost in his own thoughts as they nursed the hot chocolate.

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There were no results from the Guardian Corps' hunt for the kidnappers, although nearly a week after the kidnapping yielded a different set of results.

"You going to stand there gawking all day?" Fang teased as she leaned against the threshold of the door. Hope opened the door the rest of the way quickly after that, even as Serah popped her head from the kitchen to call out a quick greeting.

"I didn't know you were coming over today." Hope told her. "Is Sazh here, too?"

"Nah." Fang breezed by him, stopping only momentarily to ruffle his hair before settling down on the worn couch, saluting Serah in greeting. "Lunchtime, is it?"

"Just about." Serah confirmed. "I can add you in if I give Hope just a normal person's share for once."

"Hey." Hope protested, frowning. He crossed his arms. "I don't eat _that_ much."

"You didn't." Serah agreed cheerfully. "You ate too little before! But maybe it's a growth spurt. You're supposed to eat enough for three people at your age, Hope. Don't be embarrassed by it."

"I'm not above taking food from children." Fang agreed. "Lunch sounds great."

"And I'm not a _child_."

"Who's not?" Noel asked, having just walked into the conversation from the shower, his hair still wet and dripping down on the towel atop his shirt. A raised an arm in greeting for Fang, and made his way to the kitchen. "Is that lunch?"

"The child who insists he's not a child." Fang answered him, grinning. "And apparently that's my lunch now. Serah offered, I'm gladly accepting."

"Not all of it." Serah amended for Noel. She gave Fang a mock glare, waving a spatula. "We've got growing boys here. Can't leave them emptied stomached."

"Tough for them." Fang quipped back. "They'll just have to learn to provide their own food, then. What is the saying here… something about the guest always being right? Well, in this case, I'm the guest. Or whoever's in the right."

"I can help with that." Noel offered, pulling out another pan from the lower cupboards, entirely unaffected by the idea of having his lunch stolen or being called a 'growing boy'. "Do we have extra eggs?"

"I pulled the carton from the fridge, it should be on the table." Serah said.

"I should just head home." Hope declared aloud to himself. "It'd probably be quieter there."

"Aww, and the pipsqueak speaks." Fang teased, throwing an arm across the back of the couch and grinning at him. "Or is the little mouse trying to make his escape?"

"Oh, he's just not used to people around who's actually talking about things other than him." Serah teased. She pulled out a plate and cleared the contents of her pan onto the plate, not bothering to look behind her as she called out, "Did you know he's been talking with some of the smartest minds on Cocoon? We've had — chemists, engineers, mechanics, and even one historian who has come all the way down here to talk to him in the last four days."

"There was an artist, too." Noel added, snagging one of the tomatoes.

"Yes, there was that artist as well— Noel, what are you even making?"

"Err… egg sandwiches?"

"I'm already making lunch for everyone!"

"You don't say," Fang drawled out, quirking a grin at Hope, who had given up entirely and just plopped himself at the small dining table, figuring that he might as well position himself to get food first before it was stolen from under his nose. "That popular, eh?"

"I'm just trying to keep busy." Hope answered with a shrug, turning pleading eyes to Noel for one of the sandwiches as well. The older teen grinned at him, dancing around Serah as she protested about the space being _her_ kitchen and how he was undermining her skill at gauging just how much food was needed. "There's a lot to do."

"I'll say." Fang agreed, and then pushed herself from the couch. "C'mon. Let's take this lunch to-go, then. I've a quick project to show you all after a bite to eat. Good timing, too. I'm starved."

"Want a sandwich too, Fang?" Noel asked, getting to the loaf of bread. Serah made a loud protesting noise behind him.

"Sure thing." Fang agreed. "Let's see what you're made of in the cooking department."

It was another five minutes before they all agreed that they would finish Serah's meal first and take Noel's sandwiches to go with them, and the four of them settled down at the tiny dining table, dragging chairs out of bedrooms in order to fit. Despite Fang's initial claims at taking Hope's food, she instead spared some for him off of her plate, laughing at his expression.

"That's a promise you need to keep to the rest of us about growing up." Fang told him. "Can't prove Serah wrong now, can we? We wouldn't want you to stay this short forever… well, Vanille might. You'd have to eat in order to dash her dreams about you being the shortest of the group for now. Better get all that in you, too, or else Dajh might overtake you soon."

"Oh, that's right." Serah agreed with a smile. "You haven't seen Dajh in a few weeks, have you, Hope? He's gotten really tall! He almost reaches my shoulders now."

"Now, let's not get too hasty about that." Fang told her. "That's mostly his hair that's adding to his height."

"He might have gotten even taller since I left." Serah continued. "I can't believe how fast he's growing up."

"You've been gone four days." Noel told her. "How could he have grown enough in four days for you to notice?"

"He could have!" Serah protested.

The conversation continued, light-hearted, through lunch and even after Fang hustled the rest of them out of the tiny apartment, shaking her head when Hope asked if he should head up to his own place and get anything he might need.

"No need." Fang said. "We shouldn't take long."

"But where are we going?" Hope asked.

Fang only grinned at him and didn't answer, instead bringing a finger up to her lips to indicate her own silence on the matter. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"No if and buts about it." The woman claimed, dropping a hand to press heavily atop his head. "It's a surprise. You'll like it, I promise."

They headed outside of the settlement, until the streets were nothing but dirt roads trampled smooth next to bushes and trees. It took several minutes to navigate through the small forested area until they were at a rock ledge, and finally at a place that looked vaguely familiar.

"Here we are," Fang stated, bringing a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun even as she whistled appreciatively. "We'll have to make a path here. That took longer than I thought it would."

"What is it?" Serah asked from behind them. "Why are we here?"

Hope looked up from where he had taken a short breather, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Is that—?"

There was a slightly glow to the stone before them, distinctive next to the dull rocks. But that wasn't the only thing different about it, as the stone was smoothed and carved into the image of a woman on one side, levitating slightly as it bobbed in the air, emitting a feeling of power that Hope could feel tingling against his skin.

"That's right." Fang agreed, nodding somberly this time. "That's how I got here so quickly. There's quite a few set up around these parts. Figured I'd make use of my time and find where they were. Worst comes to worst, move them before other people start getting ideas about these things."

Noel stepped up carefully from where he had been walking with Serah, coming up closer to examine the statue. "It feels… off. Powerful. But sad, somehow."

"They're Cie'th Stones." Hope explained quietly, fingers tangling in the strap of his shoulder bag. "This is what happens to Cie'th who survive for too long. Their regrets just… eat them up and then them into this."

Superficially, it looked a more pleasant outcome than turning Cie'th, especially since the stone was smooth and beautiful rather than shambling and violent, but there was something about the sadness it emitted that felt so much worse than the rage and grief that Cie'th normally generated.

_It could have been us,_ Hope remembered. Snow had said something to that likeness, arguing for why they should try their best to help the Cie'th Stones on their journey. If they failed their Focus, became Cie'th, and then survived being monsters for long enough… they could have turned into something like this, made up entirely of sorrows and regrets when even the rage faded thanks to the years.

"Yeah." He breathed out, and then cleared the thickness from this throat. He had done something similar the first time around, but it wasn't something he thought about again after that. He had completely forgotten to cover it in _this_ timeline. The first time, there had been very little he could do other than write a decree into the Academy rules that the Cie'th Stones be left alone, or gathered if the land around them was needed. They were not to be harmed or broken in any way. "I— that's a good idea."

"But not only that," And here Fang's enthusiasm returned. "They still respond to us, see? Guess we're still two peas of a pod and all that. Sure, some of them had Focuses that could only be completed by l'Cie, but some of them had some relatively normal things as well. Kill a few monsters? I figured I'd do that, now that I have time on my hands."

She stepped right up to the stone, and reached her hand out to press against the cold stone, smile turning wistful. "Might as well put a few of them to rest. Turned out to be a good thing, too! They're still used as teleport stones, see? Means it won't take so long to get from New Bodhum to here anymore."

"Wait," Hope protested, startling. "You mean they work?"

"Sure thing." Fang agreed, and turned back to face them. "I'd say they recognize us, too. But there's a few things I want to test. See if we can get others to use this. And I've got three perfectly fine test subjects right here, don't I? Hope was a Pulse l'Cie who also completed the Focus for plenty of Cie'th Stones. Serah was a Pulse l'Cie, even if she never encountered them before. And then we've got Noel here, who's your every day magic user."

The three gave each other uneasy looks, but Hope stepped up the Cie'th Stone as well. "Okay. I mean, if this works, it'll take us all to New Bodhum, right? And we'd be able to get back here before nightfall, too."

"Sure thing." Fang told him. "Solved your transportation problem for you."

.

.

Vanille greeted them on the other side, dressed warmly in the snow that persisted in New Bodhum. Dajh was building a snowman just a few feet away from her, and Sazh was huddled up next to a small campfire, pushing his hands as close to the fire as possible without burning himself.

The sensation of teleportation was as strange as ever, like all his molecules had been lifted up and taken away one at a time, or a weightlessness that made him feel like nothing and far too heavy all at once. Hope breathed out a breath of relief as he opened his eyes to see the mountains near New Bodhum, and hear Serah's gasp behind him. Noel's landing was much quieter, but even he seemed to draw an audible breath.

"And my theory works." Fang boasted in front of them. "See, Vanille? No limbs missing. Said I'd get them here in one piece, didn't I?"

"You did!" Vanille agreed enthusiastically, already wrapping her arms around Hope's shoulders and leaning to greet Serah at the same time. "It works!"

"You mean you didn't know if it would?" Noel's tone was aghast.

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist." Fang brushed the words aside. "I just wanted to make sure. Me and Vanille have done it plenty of times, but we also took down some of those monsters together, so she'd be in the same boat as me. We needed to get some different people to test it, you know? Sazh did a trip as well, but he also came and helped out from time to time. And, well, we're not going to send Dajh through."

"That's right," Sazh murmured from where he was sitting by the fire. "He's not going to be one of your tests."

"Not until I turn thirteen!" Dajh shouted from where he was still working on pushing the snow into a ball on the side, waving enthusiastically at them. "That's what daddy said!"

"That's what he _pushed_ me to say," Sazh admitted glumly. "If I had my way, he'd never be a part of this."

"Can't help that he's already involved." Fang told him. "Besides, we don't want him to feel too left out now."

"This is amazing." Serah's toned was awed, although her arms were wrapped around herself at the sudden temperature change. The settlement had been much warmer, and they were all were all dressed for that temperature rather than the ankle deep snow that now surrounded them. She was staring at the Cie'th stone on this side in awe, her breath crystallizing around her. "Does this work for everyone?"

"Not that we know of." Vanille told her. She smiled. "A few people offered to help us test it, but mostly they just didn't want to come close to the stone. Said it made them feel strange, and not in a good way. And even when they were close enough, they got no reaction. Didn't know what to do."

Hope felt the nagging suspicion in his gut intensify. "So it only responds to magic-users?"

"Magic users and former l'Cie." Fang corrected him. She had her hands on her hips, looking rather smug. "Which we happen to fall into."

"Maybe." Hope admitted, biting down on his bottom lip in thought. He stared up at the stone, and then shook his head. It wasn't a theory ready to be shared yet, but he felt that it wasn't something he should keep to himself, either. He had been practicing in the past four days, even though he had yet to meet any success so far.

"You look like you've got a thought there." Sazh told him. The man patted the space next to him on the log. "Why don't you warm yourself to get your brain going? I should have brought food as well…"

"Uhh." Noel finally spoke up, tugging at the bag he was carrying. "I brought sandwiches? We'd have to share them now, though…"

"Yay, sandwiches!" Dajh called out, abandoning his snowman to stumble over to where they were."

"See?" Fang grinned at Serah. "Good thing the kid came prepared, isn't it?"

.

.

"I have a theory," Hope explained as they all sat in a circle around the fire, sharing the egg sandwiches that Serah was patiently cutting into half so that everyone could have one, and then giving Dajh an extra half. "I don't think we lost our magic just because we lost our l'Cie brands."

Sazh didn't look convinced. "Can't say I follow, there."

"Well," Hope tried to elaborate, picking slightly at his half of a sandwich. "I know it sounds strange. I mean, none of us have been able to cast after the Fall, right? Except for Serah, at least. So we all assume that some people can do magic and some can't, and that when we lost our brands, we were just some of the people who _couldn't_. If we could, wouldn't we have been able to to cast already? We should know how to, since we've had the practice."

He paused, thinking upon his words. "But what if… what if the practice we received while we were l'Cie is the reason we're having so much trouble with magic? Because we trained it to work in the way l'Cie magic works, so now when we think magic, we automatically reach for it the way a l'Cie would… except we're not l'Cie anymore. And when we can't reach it, we just think it's not there."

He turned his attention to Serah. "How do you cast magic, Serah?"

The pink-haired woman floundered for a moment as all eyes turned to her. "Huh? Well, um. I guess I just do. I feel it, and I cast."

"That sounds a lot like how we used to do it." Vanille said, looking speculative. "We always just knew what to do."

"But what if it's different?" Hope insisted. "Breathing is something we just do. And since we grew up speaking, talking is another thing that we just do. It's hard to describe both actions to someone who can't breathe and speak, but they both use air. We use our lungs, and we push out air with both actions. But one action is just a breath, while the other is creating words. If we learned magic like learning to breathe, then we'd never think of _speaking_ as a way of casting, even it it's just as instinctive."

Because why else would _children_ be exhibiting signs of magic? It could be argued that it was because children were more susceptible to magic… _had_ been argued, in fact, but Hope was starting to suspect another cause.

"People who use manadrives don't develop magic, either." Hope realized. "Is it because they also expect magic to feel a certain way?"

Now Sazh was starting to look speculative as well. "Might be. I've worked one of those things before. Always felt a little weird. Different than l'Cie magic, that's for sure."

"Then it might be a third method." Hope theorized. He nodded. "It's not really magic, but manadrives are made to imitate how magic works. In a way, it has be to instinctual to the person using it as well, so there could just be a way of drawing magic that people don't know about."

"Oh, Hope." Vanille curled her legs up in front of the fire, sandwich forgotten on her lap as she looked at him with wide green eyes, gaze worried. "What if that's not true, though? I couldn't feel it in the future, either. Neither could Sazh, or Fang. It could just be that some people are good at magic and some aren't."

"I don't believe that." Hope insisted, curling his hands around his uneaten sandwich. "I don't."

"And he really shouldn't." Noel agreed with him, drawing the group's attention. "'Cause he might be right, you know. If you learn to do something a certain way, it's hard to unlearn that. Grip a sword the wrong way from the beginning, and you'd have to train extra hard to remember to grip your sword another way, a way that's actually correct. But you can still do it. It takes more effort, but it's nowhere near impossible."

"Noel…" Serah sounded uncertain.

"Besides," Noel continued, nodding in Hope's direction. "He says it can be done, then it can be done. Right? Hope's done plenty of impossible things before. If he says it works, it's probably because he managed to pull it off."

At that, all eyes turned to him, and Hope flushed, feeling his ears warm at the expectant gazes. "I, um…"

"Something you forgot to tell us, kid?" Fang asked, quirking an eyebrow. "This one here seems awful sure you're right about this."

"Hope?" Vanille asked quietly.

Hope looked at them, and then nodded to himself. "I think… I think I managed to cast. Last week, during that night. I don't know how it happened, and I haven't been able to do it again, so it may have been — it could have been the circumstance or something else, but I'm fairly certain that we retained the ability."

"You casted magic?" Sazh asked, but then smothered his surprised. "That's not hard to believe. You could be one of the people who can."

"But I'm _not_." Hope was certain of that. If he had been one of the few capable of magic, or at least capable like the children who could so easily set fire to tents, then he would have manifested the ability in the past timeline. Hope tried desperately through the years to regain his magic at times, and it never worked. But then again, he had been perfectly safe in the previous timeline, and eventually convinced himself to stop trying because it obviously wasn't going to work. He wondered if that was what killed the last spark — his acceptance of failure. "At least, I wasn't before. Maybe something changed. But if it changed for me, it might have changed for all of you, too."

He wished that Lightning was here so that he could confirm the idea with her. Whatever she experienced in the future, she hadn't shared with him, but maybe she retained her magic as well. Maybe she hadn't.

"Well." Fang straightened up, stretching her arms. She had long since finished her food, and she rested a hand gently on top of Vanille's head. "Can't hurt to give it a try. If he's right, we get our magic back. If he's not, we stay just as we are right now."

Vanille smiled slowly up at her. "I guess you're right."

"So now what?" Sazh asked. "If we can't figure out how to access our magic ourselves, then how are we supposed to figure out if this wild theory is true or not?"

"Now…" Hope paused. He hadn't figured to bring it up today, and thus hadn't completely constructed his plan yet. But if this wasn't the best time to talk it over with the others, he didn't know what was. "I guess I wanted to ask Serah and Noel for help on that."

"Us?" Serah squeaked out, bringing a hand up to her mouth.

"Sure." Noel supplied, and then nudged Serah with his elbow. "You're a teacher, Serah. Now you've just got a whole new group of people to teach."

"That's a great idea!" Vanille clapped her hands together, smiling widely. "I've seen Serah in action before— she's a great teacher!"

The others murmured their approvals, including Dajh who raised both arms and cheered for her with his mouth full of egg sandwich. The pink-haired woman didn't look very confident about it, but smile nevertheless. "...I suppose so. But we're going to do this, then we'll have to set down some rules. _And_ I get to decide what goes on. That means nothing dangerous without my supervision, and I get to decide what 'dangerous' means."

Sazh mocked shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself as he leaned in closer to Vanille and stage whispered, "We'll now we're all doomed."

Vanille laughed loudly at that, and even Dajh piped up with, "Miss Farron can be really strict, you know! She's going to be harder than all your other teachers combined!"

"Oh, I believe it." Fang teased the young boy even as Sazh tried to explain to his son that it was true mostly because the rest of them had no other teachers.

"Alright, then." Serah clasped her hands together in front of herself, looking determined. "Give me a week and I'll come up with some lessons plans. Let's see if we can tackle the whole magic issue yet."

There were murmurs of approval before the group split up again, this time using the Cie'th Stones to get to their different homes.

.

.

.

Lightning called the next day while Hope was once again out discussing ideas and issues with various scientists who had come to the settlement, not specifically to speak with him but to speak with his _dad_ about Academy plans per say, so it was Serah who took the message.

It felt nostalgic, trailing behind his father while men and women with stern, intimidating expressions judged him over the edge of their glasses. The first time around, Hope had been nervous and uncertain, fiddling with the edges of his new dress shirt and possibly giving the impression of a shy and hesitant teen.

This time around, he nodded and smiled in greeting, memorized names and politely asked about their work and research and then tried his best to show what he understood.

And this time around, he understood quite a bit.

"The funding will take time," A middle-aged lady with grey-streaked brown hair and lines around her mouth told Bartholomew Estheim. She was dressed primly in an uniform that Hope didn't recognize, her hands clasped behind herself and back straight as she spoke with him, the both of the walking along the length of a hallway where the new institution was planned. The buildings here were still intact, although the walls were bland and ready to be demolished. "Too many are still recovering from the Fall to consider building anything beyond what is necessary."

"We have what is necessary," Bartholomew argued back, voice never raising. Hope hurried along behind them, tablet in his arms and cursing his shorter legs as he tried his hardest to not look like he was rushing. He had agreed to intern for the week seeing as his father needed the help and his usual assistant was out sick. "The settlement is one of the last areas on Gran Pulse colonized that is setting up the finishing touches on permanent buildings, and people are finally starting to adjust. It's been seven months, and we need to start thinking about long-term plans for the future. The Academy provides a new concept and something for people to work toward. We can't keep distracting the people with the latest sports and celebrity gossip. Sooner or later, they will start to realize that it's all a ploy to keep them pacified."

"You give them too much credit, Bart." The woman sniffed. "It's always worked before."

"That was before they were forced to fight for their own survival." His father disagreed. "Pulse — Gran Pulse has forced too many people to open their eyes to work around them. There are too many dangers here to stay blind in their safe little bubble. The Academy can provide a refuge. A place where they will learn how to deal with what they see and how to process the information and perhaps create something from it."

They stopped walking, and Hope barely caught himself from walking straight into his father.

"Look, Martha." His dad sighed, rubbing at his temples under his glasses. "If you want to placate the people, then knowledge will provide the heaviest of safety blankets. Let's use this time to learn about the world around us. Not just how to survive, but it's history and traditions. I've had several requests cross my desk in regards to excavations and mining. With the fal'Cie to provide for us, we need to start making progress on our own. We can't rely on the the supply of goods from Cocoon forever. I'd like to approve of at least one of the requests. Let's start learning about this world and what we can do here."

"Our priority is to support the _people_ in this time of need," Martha insisted, not giving an inch. "People are still grieving—"

"Grief doesn't _stop_." And here, his father's words were sharp before he caught himself, and shook his head. "...But it doesn't mean we don't move on. Seven months, Martha. We need to start focusing on the future rather than the past and present."

"A school will not do everything you want it to do." The woman insisted.

"No, but it will be a start. A formal system of education, a goal for children to work toward, and the roots for a better future. We're lacking in leadership right now, and soon everyone will notice it. The dissolution of the Sanctum is wearing on everybody, and we're lucky that so far there has been no true power grab, thanks to the Guardian Corps smoothing everything over. But you may have to soon consider a different form of government, even if it's just a different primarch with the government under a different name. That's out of my jurisdiction. What I _do_ want to do is encourage the people not to flounder due to this calamity."

"Even so. Even if all of what you say is not only true, but works out, the funds are _not there_. The people will not budge for this. Not this soon."

"Martha…"

"But," and here it was the woman who sighed, suddenly deflating just the slightest from her previously stern posture. "I may be able to scrape enough for one of your… excavations. Find something interesting, and you may be able to convince the higher ups to give this little idea of yours a more formal hearing."

"I suppose that's all I can ask for." His father agreed reluctantly. He breathed out a sigh, and held out his hand. "Thank you for sparing the time to meet with me, Martha."

The woman frowned, although it was without disappointment. She grasped onto his hand. "I'm not like the other ninnys who refuse to leave the safety of Cocoon, Bartholomew. You have good ideas, no matter how impossible they are."

She left after that without so much as a glance toward Hope, and Bartholomew opened the door for his meagre office at the end of the hall, gesturing for Hope to enter before he closed it behind him.

"Who was that?" Hope asked, once they were in the privacy of the room.

"Martha Kalvonier." His father responded tiredly. "Assistant to our current acting executive director. Apparently she's been swamped with requests for meetings, so anything that crosses her desk has to go through her assistant first."

Hope didn't remember this. But then again, he barely started stepping into politics at nineteen, which would be four years from now when the government had already stabilized and the Academy was starting to take on a massive role of its own. "You guys seem to know each other pretty well."

"We went to school together," His father explained, taking a seat behind the cluttered desk. "She's a good person, but it's nigh impossible to change her views on anything once she gets it into her mind what can and can't be done."

"I didn't know you were having this much trouble with starting the Academy." Hope observed quietly, sitting down as well in front of his father's desk, eying the various tablets and papers strung in every which direction. He never took his father to be messy, but then again, if his assistant had been gone for a while and the meetings lately had all gone like this, he couldn't blame him.

"Don't worry," and here, Bartholomew smiled at his son. "It will happen. People like Martha just have a hard time changing their views, that's all."

He didn't doubt it. Hope smiled back brightly, and then asked, "So what's with the excavation requests you were talking about?"

His father made a noise of acknowledgement, and rummaged through the items on his desk, finding several papers. "Local interest. Despite what those on Cocoon might think, there is quite a bit of interest from people here to find out more about Gran Pulse. Mining requests, excavation requests, scientific gathering… we've got the people and the interest, but the funding has to come from somewhere."

The papers were handed over to Hope, who took them gingerly, examining the first few lines of each page.

"I like to think some of this might lead to discoveries that would cover the expenses of the actual excavation." His father explained, but then sat back on his seat. "But that's a large risk to take, according to the people with the money. No one wants to spend more than they have to these days, especially with how much the government funding is starting to empty."

Hope cycled through the papers, and finally picked one out after much deliberation, placing the paper flat on a clean area of his father's desk. "This one."

His father just raised an eyebrow, and Hope elaborated. "She said she'd fund one, right? You should think about this one."

Bartholomew picked up the paper. "...An archaeological excavation? Hope, while I think this is important, archaeological digs should wait until we've already established a basis of—"

"Trust me." Hope insisted. "I've been there. You'll definitely find something interesting at Paddra."

.

.

"They apprehended them!" Were the first excited words Serah told him once Hope checked on his phone messages again and decided to call her back after the urgent text she sent him. "Light and Snow — well, the Guardian Corps, too — they found the kidnappers, and they've got enough evidence to get not only the individuals, but the entire group behind this!"

"That's great." Hope told her. It really was better than he expected. He figured that they would take care of the initial small group, but be unable to find the rest, and…

"Oh, Hope," Serah breathed over the phone. "There were — Light said there were hundreds of people connected to this. Maybe thousands. They're going to search them all out, but at least now we're all safe again."

Hope didn't think so. A few hundred, even a few thousand dissatisfied enough to stage kidnappings and publicly proclaim that the former l'Cie should die meant many more who felt the same but just didn't want to say that aloud. The group would possibly be the first of many for the few several years, and while Hope had just waited it out the first time around, he doubted that 'waiting it out' would work once again when arrests might be made.

Things were changing more than he anticipated.

"That—" He paused, looking around at the small room he escaped into for privacy for this conversation. "That's great. But… stay with Noel until all of this is over, okay? Just to be on the safe side."

"You don't have to worry about that." Serah reassured him. "I can hold my own in a fight. But Noel's here. I'm more worried about you being there without one of us."

"I'm in a building with hundreds of people as witnesses." Hope told her. "Nothing can go wrong."

He paused, and then immediately regretted saying that. That was just tempting the universe.

Luckily, nothing seemed to pop out at him during that moment of silence.

"If you're sure," Serah said, although it didn't sound like she believed it. "Just get back home safely, alright? You and your dad both. I think Light has a few things she'd like to talk to you about later on, too."

"I will." Hope assured her, and then thought of his earlier conversation. "Hey. Dad's putting together a team for Paddra." He didn't think he would need to tell her _why_ exactly, not when he remembered meeting her there in the future and explaining it to her already. "I already requested to go with them, and I'm going to ask Vanille and Fang if they want to go as well, but…"

"I'll talk to Noel about it," Serah promised, not needing the explanation. Her voice was warm. "I wouldn't mind going, either. It'd be interesting to find out more about the past."

Hope smiled. "Can't be as interesting as getting to travel to it, though."

"Well," Her tone was flustered. "That might be true. We never got to go to the past, though. Probably because there were things that were already set in stone and couldn't be changed."

"Hope?"

And there, Hope covered the phone's receiver and turned curiously to look at his father, who was standing at the door. At his father's nod, Hope returned his attention to the phone call. "Sorry, Serah. Dad's here. I need to go."

"Okay." She said. "Stay safe, and I'll see you later today."

After exchanging a quick goodbye, Hope hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket and then left the room to find his father in the hall, already speaking with several more people. Hope fixed a polite smile and stepped toward the conversation, where his father finally addressed him and turned for an introduction.

"Ah, there you are. Have I introduced you to me son yet? This is Hope. He's interning here for the moment, and—"

.

.

It was after dinner, a dinner which Hope was slowly becoming accustomed to, full of questions and quips on the day as Serah and Noel were invited over once again, Serah already having made dinner before Bartholomew and Hope got home.

"I've had plenty of practice cooking," Serah insisted when she first arrived to the settlement to keep Noel company. "And I might as well make a little more if I'm going to take the time to make it anyway."

His father retired to his room for more work he had taken home, and Hope followed Serah and Noel downstairs to their temporary abode, having claimed the place almost as a second home during the past week. He would probably have to stop doing that soon, especially if they were going to leave again, and that meant he would have to clean up all the coats and items he left at their place.

This time, however, he was surprised to see Snow already waiting there for them.

"Hey," The man brought up a hand in greeting as they met him at the door, leaning down to press a quick kiss against Serah's lips as she smiled and hugged him after their week of separation. "Miss me?"

"Every moment." Serah responded sweetly while Noel turned to give Hope an alarmed look.

"What's there to miss?" Hope asked instead as he slipped into the apartment right after Noel, who was already trying to escape the loving gaze that Serah and Snow were giving each other. The blond laughed at him and reached to ruffle his hair, which prompted Hope to quickly duck out of reach and leave the two lovebirds outside where they could catch up with each other.

"Are they _always_ like this?" Noel asked quietly as they gave the other two some room, although he sounded more exasperated than anything else.

Hope thought about his response. It would have been easy to claim that yes they were, but…

"I wouldn't know." He admitted. "They actually keep their relationship to themselves a lot."

It was strange to think, but true. Despite everyone knowing about the two of them, the details were never divulged.

It was just a little later that Serah and Snow entered the apartment, and Snow grinned at them in greeting once more.

"Lightning wanted to be here herself to tell you this," He told them, "But she's been pulled in to help with more things in the Guardian Corps. I'd say that Rygdea is trying re-enlist her with the amount of power he's giving her. Something about bringing in her old Lieutenant to help out with this case as well."

"So?" Noel asked him as the group settled down in the worn couch and chairs around the living area. "What happened?"

"Not as much as you'd think." Snow informed them. "A whole lot of paperwork was what happened the last week. Apparently just knowing who these guys were wasn't going to cut it, since they needed evidence of 'misdeeds' and such. Enough evidence to prove that they purposely planning in advance and carrying out an, uh… 'unlawful seizing or carrying away of person by force'. There was a bunch of mumbo-jumbo going on since the ones in on this plan were mostly kids, so they wanted to dig deeper and see where the kids were getting the funds or even the support for plans like this."

The blonde shrugged, one arm slung over the couch behind where Serah was sitting next to him.

"Apparently there were a few parents in on it too, along with older siblings who used to work in Psicom… the whole shebang. The strings stretched longer than we thought, so this took longer than we wanted it to. It's a good thing we caught the beginning of this, too. Guess that's the one good thing about how impulsive those kids were — no offense, Hope. I figured you had the whole thing under control."

"I did." Hope insisted, ignoring the doubtful look Noel gave him.

"Don't mean we didn't cream them a little, though." Snow grinned widely, and the cringed back at the disapproving look Serah gave him. "Okay, okay. We didn't do much. Just, you know, questioned them a little. A lot. But only questions! Lightning may have done some intimidating, but no one was actually hurt over the little interrogation that was set up."

"Kids, though." Serah didn't sound impressed. "Were they really?"

"...I guess if you mean mentally, yeah, I'd say so." Snow's grin toned down. "They were… maybe around our age? Starting out in college, at least. Seems weird to think of them as kids when you think of it that way, but it's the title I'd give them with the way they were acting. Most of them called their parents up rather than call in any legal help. And, of course, their parents took care of the legal part for them. Still, we got what we needed."

"It doesn't matter how old they are." Noel insisted. "There are things kids can't get away with doing, either."

"That was Lightning's argument, too." Snow agreed. "So, we got more evidence. Blaming people and kidnapping people are two separate things, after all. One is entirely illegal. So Light's there smoothing out the wrinkles to make sure we can get the most out of our testimony. But here's the hitch: we're definitely going to need witnesses here."

Snow hesitated. "They're going to go on trial in front of all of Cocoon, and while you don't need to actually be there since you're still a minor, the Guardian Corps is still going to need a testimony from you and possibly from Noel as well. Anything to help this move along smoother. And while we're at it, Rygdea suggested something that I… well, I wanted to bring up with the rest of you. The others too, later."

"What is it?" Serah asked.

"He suggested interviews." The blond told them. "I know it sounds weird, and we all like our privacy. No one wants to be out under the public eye when everyone's blaming the Fall on us, but he said that it'd be better if we were to… well."

"De-villainize ourselves." Hope provided, and shrugged when the attention turned to him. "It's a good idea. Remaining anonymous, as thin as the anonymity is, means that you have no shield against naysayers. They can demonize you all you want and you wouldn't be able to say anything in retaliation. Sometimes things like this blow over if you ignore it, but if it's going to come under public eye again…"

It wouldn't just blow over like it had in the first timeline.

"We'd need to remind the public that we're all human beings, just as they are." Hope told them. "With hobbies and ambitions and people who care about us."

"Yeah, pretty much that." Snow agreed. "Downside, and there's a whole lot of downsides, is that we're probably going to be publicly recognized everywhere we go if we do interviews. People would have faces to put to their blame, which they already did with Lightning and Hope, and to a smaller extent, myself and Fang."

"...But if we don't do it, then people will likely sympathize with the kidnappers instead if they see a trial." Hope concluded. He laced his fingers in front of himself and frowned down at them. "Which would shift public opinion against us."

"Yeah." Snow agreed.

"So what?" Noel asked, as the three of them fell silent. He was gazing at each of them in turn. "Who cares what other people think? It's not like opinions are going to change the fact that you guys got evidence on those guys, right?"

"It won't." Hope agreed. "But it might mean that other people would start thinking their actions justified. And then there might be more attempts."

And more people feeling justified and even vindicated despite getting caught. Less trust placed in the Guardian Corps for catching people who were 'obviously doing no wrong'. It was just a speck of dust that could roll up a ball of mud down a slippery slope.

Serah moved to sit up straighter, her expression grim.

"That's right." She agreed. "And if that's the case, I'll do the interview."

.

.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

We're coming up on the end of November! I'll be... really glad for the break, but at the same time I think I'll miss pushing myself this hard to write no matter what. Hope everyone stays safe on Black Friday and have a great break. I might try to wrap this up as soon as possible, or I might continue on a much slower pace in December, although there are other stories that I really want to finish up now. We'll see!


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